MEMORIES 



OVEE THE WATEE, 



STRAY THOUGHTS ON A LONG STROLL. 



BY 

HENEY MANEY. 



WITH AN INTRODUCTORY 



HON. EDWIN H. EWING. 



■>// OF Co, 



NASHVILLE: 

TOON, NELSON & COMPANY. 

18 54. 



Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 

TOON, NELSON & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Middle 

District of Tennessee. 



[f IIB LIBRARY 
I Of CONGRESS 



C. A. MORGAN & CO., 
STEREOTTPERS AND PUBLISHER 

HAMMOND STREET. 






DEDICATED 



MEMORY OF MISS F. W. S., OF MURFEEESBOROUGH, N. C. 



In the still, darkened home, time can never replace 

Her fair winsome beauty, her gladness and grace; 

So light was her footstep, so joyous her eye, 

Who ever had thought that the dear one could die? 

But make ye a chamber, for the fair one to rest, 

Where the sun-light may fall from the amber-hued West, 

For, as one at Machpelah, tho' beauteous and bright, 

Was buried by sorrowing love out of sight, 

So we, gentle friends, crave, in mem'ry, a place 

To embalm this pure casket of beauty and grace. 

She hath left us her virtues, as jewels to keep — 

And so let the young and the beautiful sleep! 

(iii) 



PREFAC E. 



It lias been said that when a man sits doggedly in 
his study, and says to himself, **I mean to write a 
good book,'' it is certain, from the necessity of the 
case, that the result will be a bad one. If the result 
of our book is a bad one it cannot be from this 
cause. For the succeeding sketches were loosely thrown 
together, and originally published, under the signature 
of ** Quoi DoNC," for the amusement of the readers of 
the ** Nashville Gazette," without the remotest idea, at 
the time, of their ever coming before the public in 
the shape of a book. But by some singular chance — 
whether at the solicitation of numerous friends, or for 
the fulfillment of some enemy's prayer, we '11 not stop to 
consider — they certainly have assumed that form. Writ- 
ten at an early age, when Fancy more than Fact was 
the bias of the mind, conscious of their defects, though 
confident of the reader's charity, the Author would even 
yet hesitate to put them before the public, did he not 
know that, with the Introductory of his friend and 
fellow- traveler, the Hon. Edwin H. Ewinq, who has 
kindly consented thus to preface them, they cannot prove 
unwelcome. In giving them up to the world, he would 
only say, with the Bard, 

" Ye who shall trace the pilgrim to the scene 
Which is his last, if on your memories dwell 
A thought which once was his — if on ye swell 
A single recollection, not in vain 
He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell," 



Nashville, April 6th, 1854. 
EDWIN H. EWING, ESQ.: 

My Dear Sir — As you are aware, some time after 
my return from Europe I commenced a series of Sketches, 
recounting incidents of travel, etc., under tlie nom deplume 
of Quoi DoNC. These sketches, which were published in 
the Nashville Gazette, met with the kind approval of some 
of my friends ; and when they were finished, the partial 
favor of these same friends induced them, perhaps, to re- 
quest of me that the letters should be published in some 
more durable form. Having resolved to publish, I would 
fain find some ground upon which I may stand, in justifi- 
cation of my course, more reliable than friendly partiality. 
I knew something of the severity of your judgment, and 
therefore did not dare to submit to you, in the first instance, 
the question whether I should publish or not ; but I know, 
also, something of the substantial kindness of your temper, 
and of your ingenuity even in ''making the worst appear 
the better reason," where one is irretrievably committed. 
And so, now, I may venture to ask you — Have I done 
well, or have I done ill ? If you should not choose to 
express an opinion upon this important question, still I 
should be glad that you would write something to me in 
return, as I feel that there is a peculiar propriety in con- 
necting your name with my Travels. You were the first 
suggester of a foreign tour among us, and, te duce, much of 
my travel was performed, and many of my most important 

observations made. 

Your friend, 

HENRY MANEY. 

^Yii) 



INTRODUCTORY LETTER FROM HON. EDWIN H. EWING. 



Nashville^ April ^ih, 1854. 
HENEY MANEI, ESQ.: 

My Dear Friend — As you have already determined 
to commit your barque to the waves of pubhc opinion, you 
must, I suppose, abide their buffets ; nor can I or any one 
else interpose a shield that will break their force. Hap- 
pily, I think, you will not need such a shield. 

Soon after my return from Europe, I found you in a 
course of publication in the Gazette, and naturally turned 
with interest to see how the sights and incidents that we 
had witnessed together would tell to me, who had been an 
actor, as well as to those who had remained at home not 
altogether uninterested inquirers after our wanderings. I 
turned too, with no incurious eye, to your Letters, to see 
what impression had been made upon one young, ardent 
and enthusiastic as yourself, by objects which I had also 
viewed with a mind worn, jaded, and then somewhat weary 
of the things of life. Romance, with me, was but a memory; 
with you it was the day-spring of Hfe ; History to you was 
a living picture; to me it was but a mouldering skeleton. 
To the one the Poetry, the Painting, the Music of by-gone 
times were wells of inspiration; while to the other, they 
were but the insipid waters of the stagnant reservoir. The 
reading of your letters was then to me not merely the 
renewal of faded memories — the repainting of scenes dim- 
med by time and distance — the replacing of forgotten inci- 

( viii ) 



Letter from Hon. Edwin II. Ewing. ix 

dents, but it was as if I liad seen again, and from a differ- 
ent point of view, the cities and structures, the rivers and 
mountains, the landscapes and objects of art, the manners 
and customs of the elder continent. The sullen roar of 
London, the gay rattle of Paris, the smiling quietude of 
Florence, the solemn grandeur of voiceless Rome, were all 
renewed before me ; and not renewed only, but quickened 
and vivified, and rendered doubly suggestive. 

These were naturally the impressions and feelings pro- 
duced upon my mind by the reading of your letters, seeing 
that we had traveled over a good portion of Europe toge- 
ther, and that, previously to our becoming fellow-travelers, 
we had separately traversed the same ground. What 
impression they may make upon the mind of the general 
public, in these days, when books of travels are so abun- 
dant — when Europe has become but a holiday-ground for 
American idlers, and when even the '* ancestral East'' is 
yearly invaded by traveling armies — it is not a little difficult 
to say. !N'or is it any part of my intention to forestall public 
opinion by an expression of my own, which, at best, might 
be regarded as prejudiced and partial. Thus much, how- 
ever, I may say with propriety — that your book will be 
found free from that vice, so common to books of travels, 
as to have brought them to rank as next of kin to works of 
fiction, if not in the same category. I mean the want of 
veracity, and even sometimes of veri-similitude. The trav- 
eler seems to forget, in most instances, that he is a his- 
torian and not a poet, and that the Muses have not, as yet, 
allowed to the one the *' license" so generously extended to 
the other. Exaggerated descriptions, factitious incidents, 
quaint adventures, *' wondrous scapes by flood and field," 



X Introductory Letter from 

are pressed into service, to eke out what it is feared might 
be otherwise tame and uninteresting; and such general 
discredit is thus brought upon this character of writing, 
that **he lies Hke a traveler" has passed almost into a 
proverb. 

Traveling, as you did, from the interior of America 
through, your own country, and crossing the ocean, 
through the British Isles, France, Switzerland, Germany 
and Italy, you have certainly had ample opportunity to see 
and to recount matters of interest to those whom duty or 
inclination has kept within their native territory. To the 
graphic character of your descriptions ; to your truthful and 
yet pleasing pictures of manners and customs ; to your life- 
like painting of landscapes and scenery; to your accurate 
delineation of works of art ; to your just presentation of the 
world-renowned structures of the architect, and withal to 
your agreeable and appropriate infusion of incidents of 
travel, I may not be allowed to testify. These must be 
found by the reading of your book. 

Your work will have at least one peculiarity, and indeed 
one advantage in the State in which you live. You are, I 
believe, the first Tennessean who has undertaken to pub- 
lish a book of foreign travel. Those who have preceded 
you from this State, in the great track of curiosity and 
instruction, have been content with the name of ** Hadji," 
and with fireside details of what they had heard and seen 
in distant lands. Your book will give to those who have 
known you, nearly a reahzing sense of the existence and 
character of foreign countries which they have never yet ex- 
perienced. Your reality will make substantial what before 
was somewhat dim and shadowy. The distant country, seen 



Hon. Edwin H. Ewing. xi 

through the distant author, leaves large scope for optical 
illusions, and both are felt to be in a slight degree myth- 
ical. The book is, in that case, but the picture of both, and 
the material proof is wanting. Your book, on the con- 
trary, will have the advantage, with your immediate fellow- 
citizens, of a "tale that is told." They will feel a prox- 
imity, and as it were an identity with the scenes described 
and the incidents recounted, that nothing else could give 
them. Beginning at your and their common home, you 
will travel and return together. From the heart of our 
Republic to the " Toe of Italy," they will be led insensibly 
on, seeing and feeling all that of which before they had 
only vaguely thought or faintly heard. Such, at least, has 
been my observation and experience of the difference 
between reading the book of an author whom I had seen 
and personally known, and the book of one who was known 
to me only by its contents or by the trumpet of Fame. 

As a matter of private feeling, I am glad that one of 
those with whom I traveled has thought proper to give the 
results of his observation to the public eye. I hope that 
it may be the means of inspiring others to enlarge their 
experience, and gratify their longings by a communion 
with the people of other lands. That they may be induced 
to enjoy the intense satisfaction to be derived by well- 
stored minds in a nearer approach to the fields and scenes 
of "modern instance," and of "ancient story." That 
they may be persuaded to garner up for themselves a 
treasure of rich memories, which are at last the only virgin 
gold in the storehouse of the mind. Who would deny him- 
self, if he could but know it in advance, the glorious joy 
of standing upon an Alpine height and looking upon the 



xii Introddctoky Letter from 

snow-clad giants that rest around him in the dignity of 
lasting silence ? Who would refuse himself the memory 
of having stood upon some field of blood, where he 
could almost hear the tramp of charging squadrons, and 
the despairing cry of down-trodden thousands from the 
*'lost battle flying?" Who would forget the fearful hor- 
ror with which he had looked into the bowels of Vesu- 
vius, beetling upon its crater's ''perilous edge,'' and 
dumb with awe at the dread throes of mysterious nature 
in this her last retreat? Whose heart should not leap 
with the thought of seeing the faded glories of Venice, 
*nhe City of the Sea," the throneless Adrian Queen; of 
basking upon the sunlit shores of Naples' bay, with its 
vine-clad hills and smiling islands, rich in remains of the 
**unforgotten dead;" of taking at least a look at Genoa 
the Proud, and dallying for a time upon the glacis of gay 
and laughing Vienna ? 

Ah, me ! the memory of such sights and scenes comes 
upon me now, with the melancholy but not painful thought 
that I shall see them no more. But it is not alone in 
musing silence that pleasure is derived from such recol- 
lections ; whenever a book is read or a discourse is heard 
where countries are introduced over which one has trav- 
eled, they seem nearer and more real than of old. Eome 
and Greece, and that far land where salvation was first 
revealed for the sons of men, used to seem to me as 
Laputa or Atlantis — their existence and their story met 
my acquiescence rather than my belief — they were but 
shadows of the real. Now I can feel their substance and 
their truth ; their ruins and their monuments have rescued 
them from the land of dreams and imagination. 



Hon. Edwin H. Ewing. xiii 

How mucli I regretted that you found it necessary to 
turn your steps homeward, when we parted at Naples — you 
to reside for a time in that ^'umbilicus terrm,^ that Festa- 
ground of nations, *'Lutetia Parisiorum*' — I to tempt the 
sands of Egypt, and to track the IsraeHtes in their wan- 
derings. But you will yet live, I hope, to visit **the 
Father of Waters," and to rest yourself under the brow 
of ** Old Sinai;'' to see the waste places of the City of 
Jehovah, and to pitch your tent by *'the river of Damas- 
cus." And then again the world may hear from you with 
renewed interest. Indeed /feel sometimes almost a desire 
to write of these lands of miracle and romance — not for 
the world's applause ^ — not for its amusement, nor yetwuth 
the presumptuous hope of affording it instruction, but as it 
were, to renew my visit — to bring closer my recollections, 
and to give vent to my dreamy meditations. On the top 
of the Pyramids ; in the shadow of Memnon's Statue ; by 
the Well of Samaria ; along the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and 
at the Pool of Bethesda, I had my dreams. When I 
looked from Hebron toward ''the Sea of Death," and saw 
forever ascending a smoke like the breath of a furnace ; 
when I bathed in the ** Sea of Galilee," and looked across 
at the mountains of Gilead ; when I stood upon Mount 
Tabor, and viewed a-back the wide plain of Esdraelon, 
there came up the mighty shadows of the past — Abraham 
and the cities of the plain — the Son of Mary stilling the sud- 
den storm — Saul breathing out his despairing soul upon the 
mountains of Gilboa. In Greece, too, I seemed sometimes 
to be with the spirits of the ''mighty dead" — Agamemnon 
with his host ; Xerxes with his crowded millions ; Sparta 
with her iron sons ; Athens with its brilliant heroes — all 



xiv Introductory Letter, etc. 

lived again and passed in review before me. But I find 
that I am rather telHng you my story than writing to you 
about your own ; and indeed I have, perhaps, said as much 
about each as propriety may demand. One remark more, 
however, I will make. I observe in your Letters that 
which some may regard as a defect, but which is with me 
rather matter of commendation. I mean the omission of 
anything like extended commentary upon the social or 
governmental relations of the people among whom you 
traveled. I regard it as but a piece of shallow presump- 
tion, on the part of any one who passes rapidly from point 
to point in a country, to undertake to give views of govern- 
ment and society, that should be the result only of long 
residence and intimate means of knowledge. Facts may 
be given, but deductions from them, as to the happiness 
or misery of a people — -as to their capacity for self-govern- 
ment ; as to their practical oppression and their means of 
rehef — require a larger view and more reflection than can 
be given by a mere traveler. 

But enough. I am sure that you deserve success ; and 
if public applause should be commensurate with my 
respect and friendship for you, yourself would be satisfied 
that it had been accorded to you in full and even over- 
flowing measure. 

Yours, truly, 

EDWIN H. EWING. 



MEMORIES 



OVER THE WATER 



CHAPTER L 



It is proposed in the following sketches — not to 
indulge in any learned disquisitions on the laws, 
manners, or customs of the various nations through 
which we will conduct our readers — not to discourse 
of matters, whose investigation probably would 
most become the historian or the philosopher — nor 
yet to weary the attention by the enumeration of 
trite and uninteresting facts, familiar to every one, 
whose vocation or whose pleasure has led him to 
cross over " the big waters" and look on foreign 
lands. But we would simply turn once more upon 
our track, ere the lapse of time has dimmed the 
remembrance of our travels, and recall some of the 
pleasant memories, that gather round the recollec- 
tion of the rover. We claim for these Sketches no 
literary merit, but would relate in a social, fireside 
manner some of the incidents that enlivened our 
long ramble over foreign shores. And here we 

would say, that if it should seem to any that our 

(23) 



24 Memories over the Water. 

random productions smack too much of the personal, 
our simple apology is that the general groundwork 
of such articles has been so completely covered, that 
to be at all original, one's observations must be 
principally confined to his own personal experience. 
Trusting then, in all confidence, to the indulgent 
charity of our readers, we will to our wanderings. 

It was on the memorable twenty-first of July, 
1851, that we left our home, by morning moonlight, 
for the far-distant shores of the Old World, still 
suffering under the ravages of a Southern fever, but 
buoyant with hope and busy with reflections on the 
changes which might occur in the circle of home 
and friends ere our return. The passion of our 
life was about to be gratified, the roving visions of 
our early boyhood tried by veritable reality, and 
the rattle of the stage-coach was as music in our ears. 

It is needless to relate how from the ''home of 
our boyhood " the stage-coach bore us to the banks 
of the Ohio ; how from the fair city of Louisville 
we went gliding up the Ohio, whose lovely waters 
have so richly merited and received the appellation 
of " La Belle Eiviere ;" how from the " Queen City 
of the West " we took the cars for Cleveland, and 
went bounding away through the '^Buckeye State" 
— the land of "bread and cheese" — a flat and 
monotonous route, utterlj'- void of any interesting 
scenery. But rapidly trees, houses and farms flit 
by us, and ere the sun had sunk behind the western 



Memokies over the Water. 25 

hills, we were safely deposited in Cleveland city. 
Making a resolute push, through the vociferous army 
of hactmen and porters that dogged our steps, we 
marched immediately aboard the splendid steamer 
that was then in waiting for our train, and soon we 
were dancing over the blue bosom of Lake Erie. 
On our right sat queenly Cleveland, looking out 
upon the broad waters, while the white sails of 
many vessels on our left, glimmered in the golden 
rays of the west-going sun as he slowly dipped to 
the distant wave. — 'Twas forsooth a scene for paint- 
er's pencil or poet's verse as first we witnessed sun- 
set on the waters. But night soon vails the land 
and wave, while music, the song and the deck prom- 
enade serve to wing the golden hours. 

Early on the following morning, we landed at the 
flourishing city of Buffalo, and at nine o'clock, 
A. M., of the same morning, took the swift-footed 
cars for the falls of Niagara, those wondrous waters 
whose fame "hath gone forth into other lands," and 
whose very name is the poetry of might, majesty 
and beauty. Any attempt at description would be 
but impotent and vain. SuflSce it to say that we 
had a merry romp over ''Main Island" with several 
fair ladies from the '' city of rocks," among the num- 
ber, Mrs. James Bankhead, and Miss Jennie Wat- 
son, whose witching smiles shed sunlight on the 
scene, and lent the finishing touch to the beauty of 
the whole; that we ascended ''Prospect Tower," 
overlooking tlie chasm of the "Horse-Shoe," and 



26 Memories over the Water. 

looked down upon the roaring waters below ; that 
we crossed over to the Canada side by the " Suspen- 
sion Bridge," and from the dizzy height of this fairy 
work, gazed down on the rushing river far beneath 
us ; that we stood upon the giddy brink of "Table 
Rock/' and saw the snow-white rapids come racing 
on, to plunge with the roar of thunder to the misty 
caldron at our feet, while beauteous Iris spanned 
the boiling chaos, hovering like some angel of mercy 
over the region of the damned. 

But our mission was still far in the distance ; so 
bidding a reluctant adieu to the glories of Niagara, 
we pursued our way toward the eastern limits of 
our native land. Our iron steed is once more har- 
nessed, his shrill snort heard, and tossing high his 
dark mane of smoke, he dashes onward, passing 
through as lovely a country as eye could wish to 
rest upon. Well may the "Empire State" lift up 
her head, proud of her flourishing cities, and their 
teeming thousands, her noble rivers and her lovely 
lakes, her goodly hills and her fertile valleys. We 
viewed, with delighted eye, her many treasures, and 
felt a proud satisfaction that it was our own land 
we looked upon. One day suflSced to bring us from 
Buffalo to Albany, whence we took the steamer 
down the Hudson, wanting only the ornamental 
villas and the crumbling, vine-clad castles of the Rhine, 
to render it the most beautiful river in the world. 
Reached New York in due time, and after devoting sev- 
eral days to the city, we made preparation for sailing. 



CHAPTER II. 



It were hard to describe the contending emotions 
that now swelled the heart, as we trod the deck of 
a noble vessel, bound direct for foreign shores. The 
moment was rapidly drawing on, when we should 
bid adieu to the land of our birth, and have the face 
of nature shut out from our view, until our eyes 
should open on the olden world. The good ship 
"Asia" was crowded with passengers, and a great 
number had come to witness the departure of rela- 
tives and friends, while many a thoughtful, anxious 
face, and many a moistened eye, told how the flood- 
gates of the heart were unlocked, and its deep 
fountains stirred at the thought that they were part- 
ing, and perhaps forever. But for us no eye was 
dimmed, no loved voice trembled in the fond fare- 
well! for we were alone, without a friend, an 
acquaintance, or one familiar face, with whom we 
could claim an adieu. 

Precisely at 13 o'clock, m., the last warning-bell 
is rung, our cables slipped, and as the brave ship 
moves out, her booming cannon shout a parting 
salute to the shores of our native land. Again and 
^gain, as we glide on, her guns are loaded, and as 

(27) 



28 Memories over the Water. 

the active sailor rams home the charge, again the 
loud report reverberates along the coast, and echoes 
over the bay. Eapidly we cleave the still, calm 
water, while om^ officers, in their handsome uniforms 
of blue, stand upon the gangways, and issue with 
trumpet-voice their many orders, to which is readily 
returned the hearty ''aye, aye, sir !" Still swiftly 
glides onward our mammoth ship, passing by Gover- 
nor's island, the Battery, the Fort, Staten Island, and 
other objects of interest, and erelong we are out upon 
the mighty deep, with the dim shores of Long Island 
trailing on our left, and the coast we had so lately 
quitted growing more and more indistinct. The 
shades of night came creeping on, the day-king had 
sought his western couch, and as the last, faint out- 
line of our native shores faded slowly away through 
the increasing gloom, we gave over our lingering 
gaze, and turning to our cabin sighed— 

*' My native land, good night !" 

On the following morning we rose refreshed with 
sleep, and though the vessel was rocking slightly, we 
experienced no difficulty in making our simple toilet, 
nor felt as yet that wretched, deathly sensation, 
usually denominated, sea-sickness. But we were not 
destined to escape entirely the ills that the fresh 
mariner is heir to; so just conceive a woe-begone 
youth, most dejectedly seated on a four-legged stool, 
with his forlorn phiz buried in his hands, and whew ! 
heaving like old Vesuvius, while a few old salts fill 
up the background, making merry over our misfor- 



Memories over the Water. 29 

tunes, and you have our daguerreotype. At any other 
time we might have felt half-way disposed to rise 
from our seat, and throw our four-legged friend at the 
heads of the graceless jesters, but now the awfully 
collapsed state of the internal system so completely 
mastered every effort of the will, that verily had one 
come up and pulled our nose, we could hardly have 
recognized it as an insult. 

But our spell was of brief duration, and erelong 
we had learned to tread the rolling deck with buoyant 
step and — steady stomach. — So now we began to 
look about us to learn what manner of men we were 
to be associated with during the voyage. "We discov- 
ered, from the jargon of many tongues and varied 
language in the painting-decked saloon, that each and 
every nation, of any consequence, claimed a represen- 
tative among our passengers — the indefatigable Amer- 
ican, the phlegmatic German, the morose Englishman, 
the social Frenchman, the somber Spaniard, the 
volatile Irishman, with a scattering of Cuban, Creole, 
and African. 

But what shall we say of our voyage, what others 
have not said, and what mention shall we make of 
the good ship " Asia " — English though she be, and 
built of British Oak ? Every incident of a sea-voyage 
has been made familiar, and a repetition would only 
pall upon the ear. Enough to say, then, that the 
night succeeded to the day, and we successively saw 
sunrise, sunset, and moonlight on the ocean. Sweep- 
ing the broad horizon of water round, ^ye hav^ 



80 Memories oyer the Water. 

watched some distant ship, when its cloud-like sails 
were first dimly traced in faint relief upon the sky, 
but growing more and more distinct, until it loomed 
boldly out over the heaving waters, and was again 
gradually lost, as our lordly vessel, like some mon- 
ster of the deep, held its onward course. — ^When 
floundering on through dense and impenetrable fogs, 
we have heard the faithful bell send forth its warning 
voice upon the restless waves, and when suddenly 
meeting with some other ship by night, we have seen 
the brilliant sky-rocket shooting from our deck, 
throwing a fitful glare upon the waste of waters, and 
briefly revealing the outlines of the other vessel, 
wafted on like some silent specter of the sea. We 
have held converse with the " watch " by night, and 
have lent a willing ear to the long yarns of the 
veteran son of Neptune. We have heard the hoarse 
" alPs well " rise, in the stillness of night, from the 
"bow- watch," while the cry was taken up and 
repeated at the larboard, the starboard, and the wheel, 
sending assurance of safety to the heart of the 
anxious traveler. Gazing down by night upon the 
phosphoric fire that glimmered round our rushing 
ship, and looking back upon the long train of snow- 
white foam that followed in her wake, intuitively we 
have called her the comet of the waters. In fine we 
have enjoyed all the beauties of a sea-voyage, while 
youth lent a golden tinge to every incident, and ere 
that chilling of the heart, by rough contact with the 
world, had blunted the appetite for romance. 



Memories over the Water. 31 

When within a few days' sail of our destination, an 
incident occurred, which carried an electric excite- 
ment throughout our ship. It was about the hour of 
ten at night, and the passengers were all gathered in 
the main saloon, some reading, some conversing, and 
some engaged with cards and dice. Suddenly, we 
were startled to our very feet, by the loud cry of 
" Hard, hard a-port," borne with thrilling accent and 
trumpet-tongue upon our ears, while the hurried 
trampling of feet over-head, announced that some 
danger was impending. An immediate rush was 
made from the cabin to the deck, which, as we 
reached, we descried just before us the clouded image 
of a schooner. For a few moments the excitement 
was intense, and — 

" The boldest held his breath 
For a time." 

The deck was thronged, yet no one spoke. — All 
eyes were directed toward the devoted schooner, and 
all hearts hushed, as she floated on within a few feet 
of our prow. In a moment the crash would come or 
the danger pass. The moment rolled by, and the 
schooner came gliding hard upon our larboard, so 
close, indeed, that you might have tossed a biscuit on 
her deck. Again we drew our breath, and the heart 
resumed its pulsation, as the danger passed. But a 
narrow escape did the schooner run ! for rushing with 
immense impetus through the thick fog, we had sud- 
denly come upon her, and only by promptly checking 
steam, and bearing hard to the right, we had avoided 



32 Memories over the Water. 

a collision. Had our mammoth ship, going at the 
rate of twelve knots an hour, come in contact with 
the ill-starred schooner, her doom had been sealed. 
She would have gone down beneath our rushing prow, 
and all her crew had sunk — "unknelled, uncofBned, 
and unknown," to the blue depths below. We again 
descended to our saloon, but so excited were the 
minds of the passengers, that at the least unusual 
noise, you might see their heads pop up as if scenting 
some new danger, and ready at any moment to take 
alarm ; for which, however, there was thenceforward 
no occasion. 

On the morning of the 10th we heard the grateful 
ciy of '' Land ho !" We were standing on deck, and 
though an Irish sailor was pointing out the Cape, we 
could discover nothing. — But the son of Erin was not 
mistaken. His practiced eye had caught the distant 
peaks of his native coast, when we could discover 
nothing but the blue sky above and the blue wave 
beneath us. Soon the bold, bleak shores of the Emer- 
ald Isle — land of the Shillelah and Shamrock — loomed 
distinctly out. We fired a salute abreast of Holy- 
head, that our approach might be announced, by 
telegraph, at Liverpool and London, and thence mov- 
ing on, we passed by '' old Kilsale Point," where the 
ill-fated Albion went down, and by "Derrynane 
Abbey " — the castle of the famous agitator, Daniel 
O'Connell, which, from the Channel, presented only 
a flat, square appearance, without any architectural 
pretensions. Stood on deck to have a view of Liver- 



Memories over the Water. 33 

pool as we came in. The scene was at once lovely 
and magnificent. The sea was as calm and placid as 
Beauty's sleep, while the broad- flowing Mersey swept 
gently down, dividing the two cities of Liverpool and 
Birkenhead — the former ennobled by its splendid 
docks, which are crowded with the vessels of every 
nation whose flag dances in the breath of ocean — the 
latter beautified and adorned with quiet villas. At 
last, with anchor cast, and custom-house examination 
over, we took one of the numerous little tugs, that 
were racing about in every direction, and soon our 
foot had pressed a foreign soil. We stood in ''mer- 
rie old England " — the land of our forefathers — and, 
for the first time, under " petticoat government." 
3 



CHAPTER III, 



Liverpool is a great place ! Such at least was our 
conclusion after several days' rambling among its 
docks, cabs, tugs, beggars and police. The city 
abounds in magnificent structures — splendid piles of 
architecture — the most noted of which are the Custom- 
House, the Exchange, St. George's Hall, and the 
Sailor's Home, Several fine monuments also lend 
an additional attraction to this great commercial 
emporium — one erected to the memory of William 
Huskisson, another to Lord Nelson, and one to George 
the Third. The amount of shipping at this port is, 
to one who will look into its numerous and extensive 
docks, ail-but incredible. 

Just before we landed, a friend who had visited 
England before, said to us — " Now if you wish to see 
a picture of English life, don't go to one of those 
fashionable hotels, to which all Americans resort, 
but come with me, and I will show you ' mine host 
of the inn,' a true specimen of English life and 
character." Nothing loth to adopt his suggestion, 
we proceeded forthwith to Dale street, and made 
ourselves comfortable at the sign of the '' Saracen's 
Head." Our hale and hearty landlord realized the 

(34) 



Memories over the Water. 35 

very idea we had formed of an English innkeeper. He 
usually sat at the head of his table, his ''fair, round 
belly with fat capon lined," and his broad visage beam- 
ing with good humor, as he carved with evident pride 
and satisfaction the huge piece of roast-beef that uni- 
versally graced the head of his board. An air of clean- 
liness and comfort pervaded his entire house, which at 
once gave it a pleasant and home-like appearance. 

After nightfall, we determined on a solitary ramble 
through the city, feeling no anxiety whatever, either 
as to losing our way, or meeting with any molestation, 
so long as an occasional policeman, in his close, blue 
uniform, and short, stout baton greeted our sight, for 
we were sure of his direction when at a loss, and of 
his assistance when in a difficulty. So, starting out 
down Dale street, we thence turned to the left, and 
were soon sauntering under the deep and somber 
shadows of the old Custom-House — a huge, venerable 
building, whose imposing appearance had first at- 
tracted our attention on our way from the ship to the 
hotel. We were lazily loitering along its dingy, time- 
stained walls, when, in looking about us, we discov- 
ered that our movements were watched by no other 
than a "polls" himself, who seemed to regard us as a 
suspicious character, and to that efiect kept pace with 
our wanderings. Observing this, we stopped under 
the shadow of one of the huge columns that adorn 
each extremity of the building, when he strolled care- 
lessly up and accosted us with a civil — '' Good eve- 
ning, sir !" Well, thought we, would it not be a pretty 



36 Memories oyer the Water. 

story to reach home, that on the first night of our 
arrival in Europe we were nabbed by a policeman. 
But, conscious of our innocent purposes, we returned 
the salutation, and entered into conversation with our 
friend of the buttons. He was a ready, intelligent 
fellow, and finding that we were an American, fresh 
from the New World, he seemed to throw ofi* all 
suspicion and reserve, and conversed freely with us 
about our country, and about the World's Fair, which 
was then being held in London. It struck us as a 
peculiar fact, that this man, though within eight 
hours' ride of the Crystal Palace, had never visited 
his country's capital ; that he had trodden for years 
his constant round, without once having an oppor- 
tunity of stirring from his post, and without one 
dream of ever leaving, even for a three days' absence, 
to view the wonders of the World's Fair. It was 
growing on toward ''the small hours of night," when 
we bade our chance acquaintance adieu, and repaired 
to our hotel, when our flickering fancies soon floated 
away into the land of dreams. 

After spending several days in the city, we rose 
one morning with the determination to set out that 
day for London, and, in accordance with the resolve, 
we shook hands with our kind old landlord, and 
started off* for " Edge Hill Station ;" arrived at the 
depot of the London and North- Western Eailroad, 
and found the cars just on the eve of departure. One 
of the porters seized our luggage, and broke off*, 
crying — '' Look sharp," while we followed at a brisk 



Memories ovek the Water. 37 

gallop close on his heels, aflording considerable 
amusement to the rest of the passengers, who, snugly 
ensconsed in their seats, could afford to laugh. 
Reached the hindmost car just as the train was on 
the move, when the obliging porter of the London and 
North-Western Railroad pitched our baggage in, and 
we tumbled in after it. Daylight fades behind us, 
and darkness visible presses upon our eyelids, as we 
rattle on through "Edge Hill Tunnel," with Liverpool 
city overhead. Suddenly we again dash out into the 
light of heaven, and speed merrily onward over the 
proud soil of England. The landscape, owing to its 
high state of cultivation, w^as the loveliest and richest 
we had ever seen. The surface of the country was 
beautifully diversified by countless village churches, 
generally built in the pure Gothic style ; with haw- 
thorn hedges, and model cottages, and grim iron fac- 
tories, with dark volumes of smoke rolling from their 
sky -piercing chimnies. 

Eleven miles from London, we passed by the 
celebrated school of Harrow, where Lord Byron's 
"young idea was first taught to shoot." A rush of 
associations came sweeping over our mind, as we 
looked on that lovely hill-side. The day had been 
dark throughout, and heavy clouds had curtained in 
the sky. But lo ! as we passed this spot, sacred in 
the early memories of many of England's gifted sons, 
the day -king smiled for an instant through the craggy 
clouds, shedding a flood of glorious sunlight on the 
scene, and then all was dark and o^loom ao^ain. We 



38 Memories oyer the Water. 

thought the incident typical of the life of the immor- 
tal bard. 

During our transit from Liverpool to London, some 
Englishman in our car, finding that there were Amer- 
icans aboard, broached the subject of slavery. Now 
it so happened that there was in our company a 
young Virginian, who in his heart believed that 
slavery was not only no stigma on his country's 
escutcheon, but was indeed a divine institution, or- 
dained by Heaven itself, as a means of reclaiming 
the benighted African from the lowest depths of igno- 
rance and barbarism to the light of knowledge and 
Christianity. So, as the unwary Englishman con- 
demned, in no measured terms, the slaveholding por- 
tion of our country, he found himself suddenly picked 
up by the warm-blooded Southerner, and quite a 
sharp controversy ensued. The debate grew warmer 
still, yet neither would be convinced, until the Vir- 
ginian, wheeling off, remarked, in his wrath to his 
opponent, that he hadn't the brains to comprehend, 
nor the candor to confess the truth, and he therefore 
declined all further discussion with him. The dis- 
concerted Englishman complied with this plain hint, 
and the subject was dropped. 

But away we went racing on, and reached London 
in the midst of a severe hailstorm, and that too in 
the month of August. It soon passed away, how- 
ever, and we proceeded to the ^'Euston Hotel," situ- 
ated hard by the railroad depot, and we were safely 
landed in London city. 



"^ Memories oyer the Water. 39 

From our brief experience, we judged the English 
rail to be superior to the American. The speed, ly 
express^ is greater, but the cars, excepting the first 
class, are very inferior, both in point of comfort and 
appearance. But strength and utility are legibly im- 
pressed on everything English. The English ladies 
we found certainly neither so pretty nor so elegant as 
our own — in point of classic beauty and delicate grace 
no comparison can be made. The English lady is, 
generally speaking, well-formed, hearty, robust. But 
we are not disposed to admire woman, when she 
seems so perfectly capable of self-protection ; perhaps 
we may admire^ but to love is out of the question. 
We seem to feel that she can battle her own way 
through life, and that idea at once breaks down one 
of the strongest inducements for man to love. But 
we would not that the Duchess of Sutherland, nor 
any other of Albion's fair dames, should consider us 
censorious, or disposed to meddle with matters which 
concern us not; for, indeed, we found much where- 
wi-th to be pleased in ''our cousins over the water.'' 
We have found their women well-favored, but not 
pretty; intelligent, but not captivating — their men 
reserved, but not uncourteous ; severe, but not un- 
generous. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Having located ourself in comfortable quarters at 
No. 44, St. James' Place, we began to open our eyes 
on the countless objects of interest to be found in the 
great city of London. Our situation was admirably 
adapted both for the instruction and amusement of the 
stranger, for within the reach of a pleasant walk were 
Hyde and St. James' Park, Westminster Abbey, Buck- 
ingham and St. James' Palace, the new House of 
Lords, and many other buildings, whose names are 
" as household words" to every reader of English his- 
tory. With a chosen companion — young Taylor, of 
Tipton, Tennessee — we began a systematic survey of 
the wealth of wonders about us. Our first desire was, 
of course, to seek the Crystal Palace, and so we were 
soon on our way, through the vast wilderness of houses, 
to the grand international exhibition. A short ride 
brought us to Hyde Park, and paying our admission 
fee of one shilling at the door of the glittering build- 
ing, we stood beneath the roof of that fairy palace, 
amid the richest products of earth, and among the 
rarest inventions of the human mind. Never can we 
forget, and yet never can we describe the magnificent 
scene that then broke wilderingly upon our vision. 
(40) 



Memokies over the Water. 41 

We had expected to encounter sights of gorgeous 
splendor and magic beauty, but never did we con- 
ceive of such a display as then met our wondering 
gaze. Articles the richest, the rarest, the most beau- 
tiful, the most curious, the most magnificent ! all 
under the transparent roof of a most exquisite and 
fairy structure — producing such an overpowering effect 
that the mind, when rushing forth to grasp them in 
its fold, would turn and seek again its silent recesses, 
exhausted by the struggle. A few statistical facts 
may serve to convey some slight idea of the vast di- 
mensions of the palace and its myriad wonders. The 
building, according to estimation, covered upward of 
twenty acres of ground. Its length was eighteen 
hundred and fifty-one feet — a foot to represent each 
year from the commencement of the christian era 
down to the time of its erection. The entire length 
of the tables, all combined, was estimated at eight 
miles — quite a pedestrian journey to one, who would 
itmoisely undertake to see, at one visit, their comple- 
ment of contents. 

We first made a circuit round the entire building on 
the ground-floor, and then ascending to the galleries 
above rapidly scanned their arrangement, in order to 
get, at first, a general view of the whole, and so under- 
stand the plan of the building, that in our succeeding 
visits we might pursue a systematic course of inspec- 
tion. The contributions from the various nations 
represented were ranged in their respective apart- 
ments, with the name of the country from which they 



42 Memories oyer the Water. 

came printed on a red banner above. One end of the 
building was allotted to the American representations, 
while pretty much the whole space of the opposite 
extremity was appropriated to, and filled with, the 
tributes of Great Britain; the intermediate ground 
being methodically divided off and distributed to the 
various other nations. We will not detail the minutiae 
of their contributions, for that were ail-but as endless 
an effort as the task of Sisyphus. Enough to say that 
during our peregrination through that wondrous struc- 
ture we looked on "the Monnt of Light" and other 
costly gems ; on beautiful and sparkling fountains ; on 
glittering and gorgeous furniture; on luxurious and 
splendid coaches ; on rich and dazzling chandeliers ; on 
hnere and mamificent mirrors ; on fountains of colome- 
water ; on antique curiosities ; on ancient mosaics ; on 
curiously- wrought representations of anatomy; on ex- 
quisite statuary and most finished sculpture ; on soft 
and blushing paintings ; on softest fabrics of silk and 
cotton ; on rarest machinery ; on implements of peace 
and war ; on purple and gold ; on beauty and utility, 
and in fine on the best specimens of all imaginable 
invention. One glance at that goodly array from 
under the folds of the American flag, down to where 
the banner of St. George drooped above the wealth of 
the English nation, were well worth a flight across the 
deep waters. The scene was one of the most animated, 
gorgeous and imposing that the imagination can pic- 
ture, or the fancy conceive ; rendered lovely, too, by 
the thought that we here behold a peaceful union of 



Memories oyer the Water. 43 

all nations, who had '' beat their swords into plow- 
shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks," all 
mingling in social concord, with no strife or conten- 
tion among them, save to excel in the great and the 
good. All was order, good- will and harmony. 'Twas 
a scene on which poet, philosopher and philanthropist 
might dwell with delight. The only regretful feeling 
which came creeping over our heart was, that our own 
glorious land, though many the honors awarded her, 
was so inadequately and so unfairly represented. 

Toward the close of the day, according to previous 
agreement, we met friend Taylor in the transept of the 
building, by the beautiful central fountain, whose 
sparkling waters sent a delightfully cool and refresh- 
ing influence through the densely-crowded palace. 
Near by were the exquisitely beautiful portraits of his 
royal highness Prince Albert and her majesty the 
Queen. While attentively considering the latter we 
observed to our friend, that if report had not much 
slandered the royal lady, the portrait before us was 
most highly flattering, for that rumor had said that 
dame nature had not been very prodigal in her gifts 
to Queen Yic. 

The words were scarcely out when a burly Briton 
close by retorted, that we were laboring under a great 
mistake, and assured us that the portrait was not flat- 
tering but only a correct likeness. Now, though we 
knew that this was only a gratuitous ebullition of 
loyal feeling, yet from the innate gallantry of our own 
nature we could not dispute the fact, but silently 



44 Memokies oyer the Watee. 

acknowledged the enlightenment. Indeed, before we 
had left the shores of England, we concluded that the 
English people, to this good day, were as loyal, from 
lord to lackey, as in the days of old, when mail-clad 
forms w^ere couched, with lance in rest, if but one 
breath of calumny should assail the heaven-anointed 
monarch. The English are still devoted to their 
Queen, not so much by personal love and attachment, 
but as the embodiment of a principle to which they 
are wedded. 

About 4 o'clock, p. m., we left the Crystal Palace, 
and strolled out upon the green-sward of Hyde Park, 
along the bank of the Serpentine, a small winding 
lake, but more like a river, that meanders through this 
handsome space of field and forest. Pedestrians with 
their sagacious dogs, male and female equestrians on 
their handsome horses, and elegant equipages, con- 
taining the fashionable and noble, were to be seen in 
all directions. History and fiction have alike ren- 
dered Hyde Park a subject of interest to everybody, 
but especially to the young and imaginative mind. 
As we roved over the soft turf, and rambled through 
its quiet retreats, we thought how many a tale of love 
had been told beneath those wide-spreaking oaks — • 
how many a heart had thrilled wdth sweetest joy, and 
alas I how many, too, had been deceived. How 
many an unknown story of love, of treachery and 
broken hearts, had those ancient trees been the silent 
witness — an unrecorded drama in the history of each 
suffering spirit. Earth was pillowed upon the bosom 



Memories ovek the Water. 45 

of night — toil had rocked her softly to rest — silence 
hung like a heavy mantle over her slumbers, while 
the starry firmament above, flung out like some broad 
banner from the battlements of heaven, curtained in 
her couch. Naught else heard or spoke, save the 
wind, as it wooed the dim old woods, and the rustling 
leaves as they whispered the tale about. 

But away with musing — for just now a " still, 
small voice " was whispering that we had passed the 
day — without our dinner. Being thus admonished, 
we were off in a trice for this indispensable item of 
life, and while cozily seated at our table, our reflec- 
tions were something in this wise — " Well, London is, 
upon the whole, quite a pleasant place — ^provided your 
shillings are abundant, but if you have not a super- 
fluity of cash, why then you have no business in this 
vast metropolis. Money is here a friend on whom 
you may safely rely, while you have him in posses- 
sion, but one who ^will leave and forsake you ' at 
every turn." 

Just here we were about to give an order, but 
involuntarily hesitated, when, on looking up, we dis- 
covered, instead of Sir Ebony, a gentleman "in 
cloth," with w^hite vest and white cravat, meekly 
awaiting our commands. — But our democratic scru- 
ples soon vanished before the returning thought that 
we were still master so long as the potent shilling 
rested in our purse, and so suffered the elegant waiter 
to obey our behest, without discountenance, and in 
his own subservient wav= 



46 Memories over the Water. 

Having dined, our next query v;as ''in what man- 
ner should we spend the evening V Taylor was 
fatigued, and positively swore he would not stir forth 
that night ; so, per necessity, we must go it alone. 
Sallying out under the blazing glare of the gas-light, 
we strolled up the Strand, and turned in at the 
Lyceum, where "Only a Clod," ''Court Beauties," 
and ''King Charming " were performed. We were 
much pleased Avitli the evening's entertainment— tlie 
scenic effect in the last play being superior to anything 
of the kind we had yet witnessed. To add to the 
attractions of the bill, twenty-four young girls, charm- 
ingly dressed in light floating gauze, appeared in the 
ballet, with eight banners in their hands, represent- 
ing eight several nations, under which they succes- 
sively danced the national dance of each country 
represented. Among the flags shone conspicuous 
" the stars and stripes." " Yankee Doodle " was the 
air, and something which we supposed the "pigeon- 
wing" was the dance attributed to America. 

How it causes the heart of the stranger to swell 
with untold emotions, to hear the national air of his 
own dear land, while wandering over foreign shores, 
especially, too, wdth the well-loved banner of his 
country before his eyes. One thus situated can never 
have those feelings erased from his memory, though 
the snows of many winters may w^hiten his brow, and 
the tide of many years strive to pour forgetfulness 
over the scenes of his early youth. And w^e w^ould 
ask no stronger current of cherished memories to 



Memories over the Water. 47 

come sweeping over the bending heart, than to hear, 
as we have heard, the sweet notes of some favorite 
song, oft heard from beauty's lips at home, suddenly 
to greet the ear, where many a weary mile, and many 
a restless billow, intervene between the pilgrim and 
the home of his fathers. It chains the very spirit 
into stillest mood, and wakes the "key-note of the 
saddest dirge that fancy ever played to melancholy." 



CHAPTER V. 



A STEOLL through St. James' Park serves as an 
excellent antidote to the " noise and confusion of the 
Strand. Buckingham Palace, the Queen's city resi- 
dence, fronts down the Park, and is quite a royal 
building. Standing in front of the Palace, and look- 
ing down the Park, you see the lofty towers of West- 
minster peeping over the tree-tops to the left, while 
just to the right of the Abbey, rises the unfinished 
tower of the new House of Lords. St. James' 
Palace, where the Queen holds her Court, lies over to 
the right, fronting up St. James-street, at the foot of 
Pall Mall, and presents a queer old face to your view, 
with its time-stained walls and peaked towers. Just 
outside the high iron fence, that fronts Buckingham 
Place, promenade the stiff English sentinels, in their 
blood-red coats, snow-white pants, and high conical 
fur hats. Lolling about over the soft sward, may be 
seen the city -bred Londoners, rolling over the green 
grass, as if the very contact did their souls good. 
Swans and ducks paddle unmolested about in the 
Park lake, and seem well content with their pen- 
sion . 

( 48) 



Memories over the Water. 49 

Starting out early one morning — friend Taylor and 
ourself — we took an outside berth aboard a '' bussy " 
on Piccadilly, and went lumbering toward St. Paul's 
Cathedral. Passing through Trafalgar Square, under 
the shadow of Lord Nelson's colossal monument, we 
wended our way up Fleet-street and the Strand. 
Occasionally a pair of horses would have their feet 
tripped from under them on the slippery pavement, 
which would for a moment block up the street, and 
impede our progress. — Immediately, however, on such 
an occurrence, you might see half-a-dozen active 
policemen, diving about among the innumerable vehi- 
cles, checking some, and urging on others, until all 
were again fairly "under- weigh." How implicitly 
everything obeys the beck of a policeman's wand ! 
To dispute his authority were a piece of presumption 
passing all belief. 

But speaking of "busses," we cannot forbear 
mentioning a mishap which befell an Irish acquain- 
tance in the streets of London. He was an aged 
man, but an excellent specimen of the rollicking Irish 
character. Having occasion to go some distance, he 
concluded, in order to have a fair view of his route 
through the city, that he would mount to the roof of 
the omnibus, which was rather a precarious experi- 
ment for his tottering limbs. He, however, reached 
the top in safety, but no sooner was the heavy coach 
under full headway, than he began to tremble for the 
security of his position. At every crossing, the huge 
omnibus would rear up and down like a vessel on the 
4 



50 Memories over the Water. 

waves, and as often would the son of Erin seize his 
nearest neighbor for support. At last, up suddenly 
bounced the "bussy," and away glided our friend 
over the side. On his way he grabbed, with the 
grip of a vice, the fat leg of an Englishman, who, in 
turn, clung to his next companion, at the same time 
roaring " Murder !" at the top of his voice. But our 
Irish friend had not the time just then to bandy civili- 
ties, or beg pardon for his rudeness ; but picking out 
as soft a place as he could find, he fell sprawling on 
his back, into the very center of a lake of mud, spat- 
tering a perfect deluge of mire on every side. Recov- 
ering his feet, he escaped the imminent danger of 
being run over, but presenting an appearance over- 
whelmingly ludicrous. A crowd began at once to 
gather around him, but giving one despairing glance 
at his bedaubed attire, he rushed into the nearest 
empty omnibus, and dived down into its farthest cor- 
ner. Peace to your memory, friend Mac ! for many 
a joke have we heard you crack over that day's 
adventure, until we verily thought our sides would 
split. 

But we were on our way to St. Paul's. — Reaching 
this venerable monument of the past, we took tickets 
for the whole building ; for, be it known, that in this 
great city, churches, like theaters, must be seen by 
the purchase of your permission. Leaving the ground- 
floor of the imposing edifice, with its countless marble 
monuments, we commenced our journey upward, 
under the guidance of one of the church-pilots. 



Memories ovek the Water. 51 

Among the curiosities which are shown the stranger, 
we saw the library-room, with its curious, nailless 
floor of tesselated oak, musty volumes, and antique 
sacred music ; the geometrical staircase — the first of 
the kind ever constructed in England ; the trophy- 
room of Lord Nelson, wherein are many colors taken 
from the enemy, also a huge lantern that figured in 
the burial of the heroic naval commander ; the Whis- 
pering gallery ; the great Bell ; and then the outside 
'' golden gallery," whence is to be had the finest view 
that can be obtained of London. But now, to ''cap 
the climax," we left our hat below, and commenced 
the arduous task of climbing up into " the ball." By 
dint of hard work, we finally succeeded, and enjoyed 
the commendable ambition of being squatted in a 
small iron cage at the highest elevation in London 
city, but puffing like a porpoise, and feeling an 
instinctive dread lest our lofty lodge should topple 
over, and we roll headlong to the earth. — But our 
purpose being accomplished, we descended to the 
ground, well w^illing to stand once more on "terra 
firma." 

We now engaged a " cabby," and passing through 
the celebrated London Docks, we rattled away for the 
Tunnel of the Thames. — Paid a penny each to enter, 
and descended by a winding staircase, ornamented 
with fresco paintings, to the floor of the Tunnel. 
Eeaching the bottom, we were induced, by the elo- 
quence of the doorkeeper, to enter a small apartment, 
fitted up with microscopic glasses, through which we 



52 Memories over the Water. 

looked, and saw many well-wrought battle-scenes, 
dazzling bright under the light of the lamps, and 
wrapped in the lurid glare of the battle-shock. 
Thence we strolled on through the Tunnel, brilliantly 
illuminated with gas, and decorated with the stalls of 
toy-venders. The Tunnel is 1,200 feet long, and 
presents a very picturesque appearance, with its 
lights, and stalls, and throngs of pedestrians. Its 
original design was for the passage of vehicles, which, 
however, was defeated by the enormous expense that 
would have been incurred by the purchase of suflfi- 
cient ground at each end to admit of a gradual 
descent into the Tunnel. 

As we strolled along, with the muddy Thames 
rolling overhead, we were accosted by a merry naiad, 
who desired us to purchase some little mementoes of 
the Tunnel "for our friends in America." "And 
how know you we are an American ?" returned we in 
surprise. " Ah ! sir, that is easily discovered," quoth 
the fair water-nymph. Of course, we complied with 
her request to select some one of her toys, and the 
more willingly, that we might linger near this 
divinity of the Thames, for she possessed that pass- 
port to the heart of man — a winning manner, with a 
fair face, and an eye of blue that would rival the hue 
of heaven's deepest arch. We left the fair daughter 
of the Thames, but with the mental reservation, that 
our first should not be our last visit to the Tunnel. 



CHAPTER VI, 



Leaving the Tunnel, we now started for the Tower, 
with about a dozen ragged urchins swarming round 
our cab, and craving a penny. One little fellow, 
emaciated and lame, hobbled on after us, with his 
thin and beseeching countenance, until his persever- 
ance was rewarded, when he returned rejoicing to his 
companions, whether to divide with them the spoil or 
hoard it for the relief of a destitute and suffering home- 
circle we know not. 

A short ride brought us to the far-famed " Tower 
of London,'' around whose name history has woven a 
spell more wild and fanciful than the weird wand of 
bewitching romance ever threw over the enthralled 
mind of the schoolboy. For here the gentle and the 
brave have alike been debarred the sweet breath of 
heaven, lingering in long confinement, until even the 
voice of hope had ceased to whisper one cheering 
word, dying darkly out from the sick heart, and 
fleeing like some pale specter from the temple, where 
it had long sat the solitary occupant. Here the fair 
princes of Edward were murdered in their guileless 
childhood, innocent victims to the bloody ambition of 
their uncle Gloster. Here the sweet Lady Jane Gray, 

(53) 



54 Memories over the Water. 

persuaded contrary to her own inclinations to accept 
her crown, which pressed as a burning brand upon 
her fair brow, was locked in dungeon dank and dark, 
and greeted the smile of day only to pass — a gentle 
sufferer, a patient martyr, and a true heroine — to an 
ignominious death. Here the brave Sir Walter ling- 
ered for twelve long years within his prison-cell, 
where stygian darkness dwells, and where the foul 
spider wove his web, mocking in its calm content the 
wild and feverish throbbings of that high-born heart, 
accustomed to the stirring excitement of love, ambi- 
tion, and brave deeds, but now wasting under the 
consuming jBres of slow and lingering confinement. 
We entered the dark recess, and as we groped our 
way through his dismal cell, we thought what ages of 
duration must have been crowded in those twelve 
years, as they dragged on their weary length, each 
hour a year, each year a century in itself. On the 
door of his dungeon we found the Scriptural inscrip- 
tion — '' He that endureth to the end shall be saved." 
In the chapel of " St. Peter in Yinculis" lie the head- 
less bodies of Fisher, Ann Boleyn, Thomas Cromwell, 
Catharine Howard, the Duke of Somerset, and the 
Duke of Monmouth. 

On entering the gates of the Tower the stranger 
first procures his tickets, and then takes his seat in a 
small anteroom, awaiting the arrival of other visitors, 
^until a full compliment is made up. This is done for 
the economy of time, for there is ever a constant 
throng pouring in, and it would be impossible to 



Memories over the Water. 55 

show each visitor through separately. Our company- 
was soon made up, and we were marshaled off by one 
of the numerous guides in gay and gaudy livery, 
through the various apartments. "We first entered 
the "Horse Armory." Here the collection of eques- 
trian knights is certainly extensive and interesting to 
the curious. The most striking are the effigies of the 
Kings of England, mounted on their steeds of war, 
and clad ''cap-a-pie" in their burnished armor. The 
line commences with William the Conqueror and 
extends to George the Second. But a feeling of dis- 
appointment came over us as we looked along the 
glittering line. We had thought, as we stepped 
before those mail-clad forms, to have the embodiments 
of the past before our eyes — to feel ourself carried far 
away into the dim shadows of the days of yore, and 
feel a solemn assurance that we were treading the 
courts of antiquity, mingling by easy fancy amid 
scenes softened by the touch of romance and hallowed 
by the dust of far-distant ages — but no such sensation 
could we realize; all seemed modern and new; the 
very armor was all burnished and bright. The voluble 
guide within, the rumbling of the heavy cartwheels 
without, the ringing of the mason's hammer engaged 
in repairing the building, all broke the spell, and told 
that we were still in the active present, where all 
were battling, not for the honor of chivalry or the light 
of lady's eye, but for the potent dollar or the magic 
shilling. We stood before the grim iron forms of 



66 Memories over the Water. 

England's kings, but felt not the august presence of 
Albion's majesty, unable to doff our hat before the 
royal brow, or to bend reverently before the shrine of 
the past. After passing through the several armo- 
ries — replete with arms, foreign trophies, and historical 
curiosities — we were finally conducted to the jewel 
office, where for safe-keeping the crown jewels are 
deposited. The whole regalia presented a most daz- 
zling and magnificent appearance, with its scepters, 
crowns, crosses, swords and spurs, all studded with 
diamonds enough to make the eye of woman dance 
with delight, or the fingers of the miser ache to 
clutch. The entire collection is valued at fifteen mil- 
lion dollars, and the crown of the present Queen at 
five millions of dollars. With a look at the " Bloody 
Tower,^' and the '' Traitor's Gate" our visit was 
concluded. 

On the following morning we started out, afoot and 
alone, bending our way toward Westminster Abbey, 
where sleep Albion's noble dead. We were soon 
within its sacred precincts, loitering in "the dim reli- 
gious light" of this time-honored Abbey, and looking 
over the many monuments erected to heroes, naval 
and military ; celebrities, civil and ecclesiastic ; poets 
and orators. Lord Byron has been denied a resting- 
place in "the poet's corner," which, however, can 
never be complete without him. And yet they have 
placed there monumental marble to the memory of 
tlie profligates Sheridan, Pope, and others of equally 



Memokies ovek the Water. 57 

culpable character. ''O rare Ben Johnson" meets 
your eye to the left as you enter, while the immortal 
Shakspeare stands immediately on your right. 

After looking over the more plebeian monuments, 
we dropped our admission fee into the " itching palm" 
of the holy sexton, and commenced a survey of the 
series of chapels, wherein repose the relics of the 
kings and queens of England. Among the most con- 
spicuous monuments are the tombs of Mary queen of 
Scots, Queen Elizabeth, and the shrine of Edward 
the Confessor. As we looked on those cold marble 
figures, in the attitude of death, with hands meekly 
folded over rude warrior and gentle woman, we could 
but think how empty and how vain the emoluments 
of this life. Those moldering ashes of royalty lie 
as unconscious of their honored resting-place as those 
of the veriest beggar of their rude neglect. And 
then we thought that we would not have our body to 
rest in the dark and chilly gloom of the cathedral, but 
rather in some sweet and quiet spot, out in the open 
fields and under the smile of the blue skies, where no 
cold and heavy marble should weigh upon our breast, 
but the sod grow green, the summer winds blow, and 
the wild flowers bloom upon our simple grave. 

Leaving the elaborate architecture of Westminster, 
we passed on up to Charing-Cross, passing the new 
House of Lords, which, when completed, will be a 
most splendid building. Then took a cab and called 
upon our millionaire minister at his residence on Pic- 
cadilly, whom we found a venerable and courteous 
5 



68 Memories over the Water. 

gentleman, kind and cordial in his manner toward all 
his countrymen. Went thence to the National Gallery, 
situated on Trafalgar Square, and made a rapid sur- 
vey of its paintings, some of which were from the 
magic pencil of Raphael, Rubens, Rembrandt, Oorre- 
gio, Claude, Guido, Titian, Velasquez, and a host of 
others of lesser note; made a tour of the several 
rooms and took our departure, glad to escape the 
crowd and the clouds of dust raised by the sweeping 
dresses of the numerous ladies. Strolled thence up 
Regent street, passing through Portland Place, round 
Park Crescent and Park Square into Regent Square, 
one of the loveliest spots in the neighborhood of Lon- 
don. Our foot fairly joyed to press the green-sward, 
as we rambled on, with buoyant spirit and elastic 
step, under the cool shade of the wide-branching oaks. 
Erelong the classic Holford House, nestling its white 
front in the deep green woods, attracted our attention 
and elicited our admiration. But onward still we 
tramp, pay our shilling, and enter the Zoological 
Gardens, where may be found "the beasts of the 
field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea." 
The grounds are beautifully laid out, and bloom 
with every variety of shrub and flower. Left the 
gardens and went out toward the left, when we came 
in view of a bold, high hill, smooth as velvet, and 
without a tree to break its outline on the sky, and 
beyond which the blood-red, rayless sun was just 
sinking. The hill-side was covered with men and 
boys, engaged in the old English sports, with a dim 



Memories over the Water. 59 

and hazy atmospliere resting over the busy scene. 
It seemed, as we stood and looked on the panorama 
before us, that long ago, away in our early boyhood, 
we had once dreamed of the very identical scene 
spread before our eyes. Some picture from the dark 
background of the past rises indistinctly up, and is 
succeeded by a spectral host, as fond memory pours 
forth in pale and shadowy train her trooping phan- 
toms, yielding obedience to her fairy wand, like as 
the fabled genii of old, called from their dark abodes 
by the voice of the magician. 



CHAPTER VII, 



London is an inexhaustible field for the investiga- 
tion of the curious stranger, and we might dwell with- 
out limit on its myriad wonders. We might tell of 
the British Musem, and the Queen's Opera ; of the 
Vernon gallery, and the Royal mews ; of the London 
docks, and the beer vaults; of the fish market, and the 
Burlington Arcade ; of Greenwich and "Woolwich ; of 
the old Bailey and Bow-street, of churches and theaters; 
of the Strand by day, and of Regent street by gas 
light, and in fine, of matters innumerable peculiar to 
the city of London. But weary of the din and smoke 
we sigh for the pure atmosphere of travel, and so we '11 
plume our wings for sunny France. 

About 3 o'clock a. m., we were roused by " Boots," 
according to orders, who buckled on our trunks, gave 
the last touch of his nimble brush to our wardrobe, 
saw us seated in our cab, and receiving his farewell 
bonus, wished us a long life and a happy journey, as 
we dashed away from St. James' Place. We had 
started for the special express train, by means of 
which passengers from London reach Paris in eleven 
hours. It was in the cold gray of the morning, the 
streets were comparatively clear, and we rattled on at 
a rapid pace over the well-paved road. We were 

(60) 



Memories oyer the "Water. 61 

rather behind our time, and so ordered '' cabby " to 
drive like Jehn. He did his duty, and so did his 
trotter, but we reached the railway station just as the 
snorting iron steed had bounded from his stable. 
Fogg and Brevard had also arrived a moment too late, 
and so our misfortune was consolingly mutual. To 
go back, we were one and all resolved not to do, and 
so concluded to take the 6 o'clock train down to 
Brighton. The hour arrived and we were on the move, 
rejoicing to escape the uproar of city, and no- wise loth 
to flee the impositions there practiced on the unwary. 
A few hours' ride over green glades and through 
chalky tunnels brought us to Brighton — that watering 
place so famous in English novels. After breakfasting 
in one of the numerous coffee-houses we strolled over 
the city, which contains, it is said, in the fashion- 
able season, a population of eighty thousand, while 
the permanent citizens number only thirty thousand, 
leaving a floating population of fifty thousand. An 
amusing feature of this city is the great number of 
miniature carriages, drawn by goats^ in harness ; a 
convenience, we supposed, for gouty squires, and 
superannuated dames. Saw the royal pavilion, one 
of Victoria's numerous country seats, but which, we 
were told, she had never occupied, though reserved 
for her exclusive use. Many of the houses are beau- 
tifully stuccoed with dark gravel, which, with their 
verandas, present an appearance, at once elegant and 
unique. Ascended Eace Hill, just back of the city, 
and from its bold, bald summit, had a fine view of 



62 Memories over the "Water. 

the city and its channel ; met here with a picture a 
rural life in the olden tirae, viz: the shepherd boys 
with their crooks and sagacious dogs, tending their 
flocks in the open fields. At 6 o'clock p. m., we took 
the cars for New Haven, a small port on the coast of 
England, and at 11 o'clock at night we put out into 
the boisterous English channel, on a small and filthy 
steamer, bound for the port of Dieppe, on the coast of 
France. A more disagreeable and nauseating night 
we never passed, than on board that little ''dug-out," 
as it danced exultingly over the rough waters of the 
Channel. The very memory of our internal agonies, 
and external circumstances, causes us even now to 
shudder. The night was dark as Erebus, and the 
waters dashed madly against our frail vessel, as she 
pushed out into the angry elements. Our steamer 
was unprovided with berths, and so great w^as the 
number of passengers on the occasion, that not even 
a sofa or a chair could be paraded for the accommo- 
dation of each one of us. We, however, crowded 
down into the cabin, which soon became almost equal 
to the "Black-hole of Calcutta;" so much so that we 
could endure the close atmosphere and constant vol- 
canic heavings for only a short while, and then sought 
relief on deck, w^hich, though cold and comfortless 
was yet preferable to the foul confinement below. 
With our overcoat about us we lay down on the 
hard boards, while our wee bit of a craft was dancing 
like a feather tossed to and fro by the wind. In fact we 
were just in that peculiar state of indifierence, which 



Memoeies oyer the Water. 63 

renders one perfectly insensible to all other sufferings, 
and callous even to his own life. Before morning 
dawned we stumbled once again down into the cabin, 
and despite our own physical demolition, we could not 
suppress a smile at the scene before us. Friend 
Taylor, who possessed, in an eminent degree, that 
faculty of ever being at home ; had managed, by some 
art of Tious pocus^ to secure an entire sofa, and was 
stretched out at full length, reveling in the luxury of 
unbroken sleep, and hlissfully ignorant of all that 
was transpiring about him. A few feet off were two 
surly sons of England, who, not having even sufficient 
room for a comfortable seat, described their sufferings 
as perfectly ''stunning," and swore heartily at the 
prostrate form of our friend for a d — d lazy rascal, 
because he seemed so entirely comfortable and recon- 
ciled to the evils of the hour. He, though, slept hap- 
pily on, without once knowing what an object of 
malice and envy he was to those about him. 

But ''finis omnibus est," and so at last the long 
night wore away, and the morn broke, like an angel 
visitant above our heads, and about 9 o'clock a. m., 
we reached Dieppe. Our vessel was brought up into 
her accustomed berth, and arrangements made for the 
examination of passports and baggage. About thirty 
yards from the shore sat the Custom-House office, 
on each side of which were attached ropes, reaching 
down to the vessel's side, thus forming an inclosed 
space into which the passengers were huddled like so 
many pigs in a pen. From this temporary quaran- 



64: Memories over the "Water. 

tine we were passed one by one through the Custom- 
House ofBce — in at one door, and out at another, as 
the passport and baggage of each passenger was suc- 
cessively examined. Beside this office there were two 
additional wings, appropriated for the examination of 
the persons of the two sexes, whenever they might 
present a suspicious appearance. Without knowing 
whither we were going we found ourself suddenly 
hustled into one of these apartments, when one of 
the officials proceeded to place his hand on each one 
of our pockets, in quest of contraband articles. His 
search was, however, merely nominal, and of course, 
fruitless, when he politely bowed us out at one door 
and turned to perform the same kind office on another. 

At last free from this tedious and farcical proceed- 
ing, we got breakfast at " Morgan's Hotel," well 
known by every stranger as the first in the city, and 
at half-past eleven we took our seats in the cars bound 
for the French capital. The French cars we found far 
more comfortable than the English, and provided with 
lamps, which, like those of Vesta, are kept continu- 
ally burning, to lighten the gloom of the damp, dark 
tunnels, which are so abundant on this road. 

On reaching the fine old city of Kouen, celebrated 
in history as the place where Joan of Arc was burned, 
we changed cars, taking an omnibus through the city, 
and passing immediately by its famous cathedral, to a 
different station. In a few moments we were again 
on the move, and at 6 o'clock p. m., we were in Paris, 
the great emporium of fashion, folly, fun, and frolic. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Our first sojourn in the fair city of Paris was 
limited to a single week, whose seven days seemed 
but so many hours, so magically fleeting was their 
flight. We reserve our memories of Paris until 
our return, from wandering over the Continent, to 
that queen of European capitals, when we were 
initiated, during a winter's residence, into the mys- 
tic circle of its mirth and merriment. We pause 
only for a moment to have a glimpse at the out-door 
life during the summer months ; for in that season the 
Parisians proverbially live abroad. Indeed, we know 
of no word in the French language, whose literal 
meaning corresponds with our word — home. They 
say " chez moi " — that is, " with me," and wherever 
they are, that we must presume is home. 

The " Chateau des Fleurs ^^ is one of the numerous 
pleasure-grounds of Paris, where the gay "cits" 
assemble of an evening for dancing, and where the 
foreign stranger invariably repairs, either to enjoy the 
dance himself, or to witness some of the various 
phases of Parisian life. Without stopping to defend 
the propriety of our purpose, we candidly confess that 
we went, both to participate in the former, and to 

(65) 



66 Memories over the Water. 

observe the latter. Starting out from '' Eiie du Dau- 
phin," we strolled through the " Tuilleries Gardens," 
across the magnificent "Place de la Concorde," under 
the shadow of the " Obelisk of Luxor," and up the 
"Champs Elysees,'' toward the " Triumphal Arch." 
About midway up the broad thoroughfare, we turn 
into the left, and observe, over an arched gateway, the 
words — " Chateau des Fleurs," dancing in lambent 
letters from the burning gas. Here admission is 
charged for the gentlemen only, the ladies being per- 
mitted to pass unchallenged. Passing through the 
gateway, we thought we had suddenly stepped into 
fairy land, so novel and so beauteous was the scene 
before us. The gardens w^ere beautifully laid off, and 
brilliantly lighted. The air was redolent with the 
perfume of flowers — the gentle zephyrs laden with 
the strains of dulcet music, entrancing as ever flowed 
from Memnon's fabled statue at set of sun, or woke 
euphonious from Euterpe's fingers. In the center of 
the gardens was erected a canopy, under which the 
musicians sat, while before them the gay dancers 
were floating through the mazy measures of the 
waltz, treading as lightly to the music's rise and fall, 
as elfin forms in their mystic revels. Unaccustomed 
to such enticing scenes, we felt as though we stood 
upon enchanted ground. The gay dancers, the strains 
of alluring music, the festoons of light and flowers, 
the fair daughters of France — all combined to win 
away the senses, and produce the impression that we 
were transported to some other planet, perhaps ram- 



Memories over the Water. 67 

bling through the regions of King Charming, or lost 
in the reveries of dream-land. What some of the 
sober, anti-dancing brethren of our own good city 
would say to the untrameled license of the " Chateau 
des Fleurs," or "Bal Mobile," we surely w^ot not. 
Yet with the French they are recognized as an inno- 
cent recreation. No one is heard to cry out against 
them; no condemnation, no wish, that they should be 
abolished. But we hope the day is yet distant, ere 
such a state of morals shall prevail in our own west- 
ern land; for no lover of his country — no advocate 
for the pure, the noble and the good — could wish such 
customs to receive the national sanction of his own 
people. 

On the 30th of August, about eleven o'clock, we 
left the handsome railway station at Paris, en route 
for the city of Geneva. Soon after, we passed by the 
old palace of Fontainebleau, traversing a beautiful 
section of country, whose lovely scenery was varied 
by groups of peasantry, in their dangling white caps, 
blue blouses and wooden shoes, forming, to the eye of 
an American, a tableau at once novel and picturesque. 
About dusk, passing through a long tunnel, we 
dashed out into mountain scenery, some of which 
was truly grand — the dark clouds belting the rock- 
ribbed sides of the towering hills, rolling and wreath- 
ing like huge serpents around their lofty crests. But 
night came on, shutting out the view, and about nine 
O'clock we reached '' Chalons-sur-Saone." Eested 
here until morning, at the "Hotel Chevreuil," and 



68 Memories over the Water. 

about ten o'clock, a. m., the next day, commenced our 
journey, by post, for the shores of Lake Leman. 
Our company consisted of eight persons — Mr. Kerr 
Boyce, of South Carolina, with his son and daughter, 
Mr. and Mrs. Eice, Fogg, Taylor, and ourself. "We 
therefore engaged two carriages, each capable of 
containing four. All seated, baggage aboard, and 
postillion mounted, when, cracking his whip with 
professional gusto, away we rattled over the stone- 
paved streets of Chalons, and soon were beyond the 
farthest borders of the town. The vine-clad hills of 
sunny France were out in all their summer beauty, 
and Nature's bonny smile lent sweet contagion to our 
hearts. Our spirits were in finest flow, and lad and 
lassie received both merry bow and civil word as we 
passed them in their daily labors. Some few looked 
sour, and returned not the salutation, construing our 
civilities, perhaps, as ill-timed pleasantry. But the 
great majority either smiled or courtesied, and gener- 
ally accompanied the same with some playful remark. 
The incessant cracking of the whip of our merry pos- 
tillion called the attention of the peasant from his 
labor, and the cottagers to their windows, to stare at 
what they thought some spry sprigs of English 
nobility, who generally travel by post, not realizing 
that they looked upon those whose proud title was 
American Sovereign. 

About sunset, we commenced our first ascent of 
the Jura Mountains, and as lovely a view as ever 
gladdened the captive fancy, while straying through 



Memories over tpie Water. 69 

the sunlight and shadows of dream-land, now greeted 
our vision, as w^e slowly wended our way up the 
winding mountain road. Below us lay a pretty vil- 
lage, nestling its peaceful head in the valley at our 
feet, and lo ! as we journey on foot up the mountain 
side, the sweet tones of the vesper-bell tell the hour 
of prayer in the village below. We stop, and, linger- 
ing, list to the soft music of the sound, as it comes, 
in sweet and mournful accents, floating up the 
rugged heights. Its mellow cadence creeps caress- 
ingly into each mountain crevice, and as the silver 
waves of its broken melody reach the ear, they also 
find their way into the still chambers of the heart, 
and awake from its chords a sympathetic strain. 
Many a lonely cross we encounter on the road-side, 
generally commemorating some accident which had 
befallen the traveler at that particular spot, and 
pointing the wayfaring wanderer to life's final goal 
— his home on high. On reaching the summit, we 
found there, on our left, a modest little chapel, sur- 
mounted, as usual, by the stone cross, and containing 
within its glass doors an image of the Virgin Mary. 
About nine o'clock, we reached the village of Clair- 
vaux, and there remained until the next morning, 
when we were again bright and early on our way. 
The cool mountain breeze played upon our cheeks, 
braced our limbs, and sent alight and buoyant feeling 
through our bodies. The bonny Lizzie Boyce and the 
lovely Mrs. Eice, enhanced each pleasure, and 
smoothed every asperity of the journey, by the magic 



70 Memories over the Water. 

of their winning ways and pretty faces. Our 
postillion, too, was a merry lad, who cracked his 
whip and blew his favorite horn, till echo answered 
back, as our tough ponies jogged on over hill and dale, 
and along the mountain side. At intervals of about 
every ten miles, we would change horses, at the 
'^ poste-aux-chevaux." Occasionally, on our route, 
the " gens d'armes " would make their appearance, 
and "request the privilege of seeing our passports. 
They were, however, invariably courteous and polite, 
and performed their unpleasant duties with much 
civility, grace, and good-will. 

When about tv/elve miles from Geneva, we stopped 
to change our weary horses, and while quietly dozing 
in the ''voiture," Miss B. tripped up to our carriage, 
and wondered if we were too lazy to get out and look 
at Mont Blanc. That final word acted like magic on 
our stupid senses, and we sprang out at one bound, 
when, without the least preparation, that '' monarch 
of mountains " burst, in all its glory, on our enrap^ 
tured sight. The broad, fair valley of Geneva, with 
its lovely lake, lay quietly reposing at our feet, while 
rising up, in majesty supreme, from the opposite side, 
Mont Blanc towered up above the sky-kissing Alpine 
range, with the golden rays of the west-going sun 
gilding his snow-clad crest. — Wood and water, vale 
and mountain, lent their several charms, blending in 
one harmonious whole, a picture of grandeur and 
sublimity, which nor pen nor pencil could portray. 
That beauteous, glorious scene is indelibly fixed — is 



Memories over the Water. 71 

written with a pen of iron on the tablets of our mem- 
ory. Beneath its pure and elevating influence, we 
instinctively bared om^ brow, as though before the 
altar of the Most High, and breathed a silent tribute 
of worship and of prayer to Him, who "holds the 
earth in the hollow of his hand," and at whose com- 
mand '' the everlasting hills bow down their heads." 
We gazed long and silently on that scene of wondrous 
beauty — the white crest of the mountain — the blue 
wave of Leman — the green fringe of the valley — the 
dark shade of the forest, and turned regretfully to the 
impatient call of the postillion. Getting into our 
carriages, we went rapidly down the tortuous road, 
passed swiftly through the valley, and soon were 
within the strong walls of Geneva. 



CHAPTER IX. 



At Geneva we were much pleased to find our Tennes- 
see friends, Bishop Otey, Mrs. Eakin, and Miss Marie 
L. Bass. If there is any one thing which to the sojour- 
ner in foreign lands comes with grateful welcome, it 
is the grasp of acquainted hands — the greeting of fa- 
miliar faces — the glance of friendly eyes, which speak 
at once of kindred sympathies and our distant homes. 
The stranger, while treading the soil of his pilgrimage, 
goes on his way unknowing and unknown. He reads 
at every step that no one cares for him — his weal or 
his woe, his health or his sickness, his joys or his 
sorrows are alike unheeded by those who throng about 
him. An alien to their hearts and homes, we have 
found that if at all observed, it is only that he may 
become the victim of the swindler and the rogue. lie 
is the fair and legitimate subject for indiscriminate 
plunder, and often the unwary traveler, in his perse- 
cution, might exclaim, in the letUv but not in the 
spirit of scriptural gratitude — ''I was a stranger, and 
ye too'k me in^'^ 

On our arrival at Geneva, we had gone immedi- 
ately to the "Hotel des Bergues;" but finding that our 
friends were just across the river at "Hotel L'Ecu" wc 

(72) 



Memories oyer the Water. 73 

went over forthwith to see them. Now it so happened 
that while we were there some lady of the party, wish- 
ing to pm^chase a shawd, had ordered several to be 
sent lip into the private parlor. Having selected one 
out of the number, a certain young friend of ours, 
taking a fancy to a second one, determined on its ac- 
quisition to his own w^ardrobe, that he might wear it 
(as is frequently the case with travelers in Switzer- 
land) in the highland fashion, and thus be securely 
protected against the cold, during his transit over the 
mountain passes. But he had never learned the pe- 
culiar '* modus" of arranging it about his person; and 
so while vainly essaying to acquire the art, a certain 
fair lady kindly volunteered to assist him. But alas 
for poor — ^'-YoriokP'^ In winding the long plaid about 
his form, the wicked lady, with mysterious art, did 
likewise around his heart so weave the meshes of the 
mischievous Boy -god, that from that same hour to this 
good day he has been ''a prisoner in bonds." Should 
these wayward lines hy chance meet her eye, sh^ will 
doubtless remember the incident, and must in fairness 
acknowledge the justice of our accusation. We know 
that without " malice aforethought" the mischief was 
done, but yet the result was equally fatal. 

The situation of Geneva is beautiful beyond descrip- 
tion. Lying just at the foot of the lake of the same 
name, it is divided into three unequal parts by the 
blue waters of the river Ehone, and connected toge- 
ther by various handsome bridges. On one side rise 
the dark, wooded heights of Jura, and on the other 
6 



74 Memories oyer the Water. 

tower up in wild disorder the snow-clad rugged Alps, 
as though here the fabled giants of antiquity had piled 
''Ossa on Pelion" to scale the high battlements of 
heaven. And then in beautiful contrast, beneath the 
dark frown of the one and the stern solemnity of the 
other, sleep the happy waters of Leman, resting like 
"the smile of the Great Spirit" in the valley below. 
Indeed the eye which has once draiik in the beauty 
of that scene can never forget it: it will dwell as a holy 
spell upon his heart haimting his memory like the 
voice of some wild melody. 

Among the objects worthy of notice in and about 
the city are Calvin's tomb — without inscription or 
monument; the canopy in the old cathedral, from 
under which the impetuous reformer promulgated his 
bold doctrines; the tomb of the licentious prelate 
— Prince Louis de Rohan — who figured so conspicu- 
ously with Madame Lamotte in ''the affair of the 
necklace;" the house in which Eousseau was born; 
Ferney, where Voltaire lived ; and the glaciers of Cha- 
mouny, situated a day's journey from Geneva. This 
" aristocratico-democratic" city contains twenty-five- 
thousand inhabitants, two-thousand eight-hundred of 
whom are engaged in the manufacture of watches, and 
make annually seventy thousand time-pieces. Here 
too are manufactured with great skill mathematical 
and surgical instruments, gold-lace, silks and porcelain. 

Soon after our arrival in Geneva we made an ex- 
cursion up the lake of Geneva, along its northern 
margin, to the village of Coppet, to visit the Chateau 



Memories over the Water. 75 

of Mad. de Stael. On arriving at our destination we 
found the gateway guarded by a fierce dog of the St. 
Bernard breed, who seemed little disposed to greet us 
with that becoming hospitality for which his species 
is so celebrated; with hair all bristled "like quills upon 
the fretful porcupine," and snarling so as to show an 
unpleasant array of shai-p, white teeth, he stood reach- 
ing forward to the utmost tension of his chain — pre- 
senting such a ferocious aspect that, though securely 
fastened we could hardly prevail on the ladies to set 
foot within the grounds. Finally however we all 
passed in, when w^e were met by a servant to whom 
we communicated our desire to see the Chateau. Per- 
mission was very politely granted, and we were 
shown through the various apartments, in one of 
which we saw the portraits of Mad. de Stael and her 
parents — M. and Mad. Necker: Also a marble bust 
of the romantic soldier M. Rocca — Mad. de Stael's 
second husband. We were also shown into the studio, 
where the authoress of Corinne composed many of her 
works, and saw there the identical writing-desk and 
inkstand which she was accustomed to use. In the 
garden adjoining the Chateau, M. Necker and his 
illustrious daughter are buried, but we were not permit- 
ted to visit their tombs for fear, we suppose, of that 
general spoliation to which all such spots are subject. 
There is something very fascinating in looking upon 
the homes of those authors whom we have delighted 
to read, and especially so w^hen woman has thrown 
the sacred spell of her nature and her genius over the 



76 Memories over the Water. 

spot. We profess no great admiration for literary 
''blues/' but it were criminal to detract aught from 
the meed of praise, which posterity has awarded to the 
name of Mad. de Stael. Associated from her earliest 
childhood with the "savans" of the age, her mind 
naturally became imbued with the love of political ex- 
citement and research. By her prominent position in 
the world of letters, she stands a living assertion of 
the disputed truth, that woman may think and write 
equally with proud man. To such a reputation had 
she attained that, it is related that Napoleon, when 
about to draft a new constitution for France, extended 
a pressing invitation to her to visit Paris and assist 
in its delineation, which however she declined. 

On our return to Geneva, Antonio, the courier, 
pointed out "Oampagne Diodati," on the opposite 
side of the lake, where Byron resided in 1816, and 
where he com^posed his great poem Manfred, as also 
the third canto of Ohilde Harold. 



CHAPTER X. 



At Geneva, we parted with our friend Taylor, and 
with much regret, for we had found him a true- 
hearted fellow, a boon companion, and a certain 
friend. We were also loath to bid adieu to such agree- 
able acquaintances as Mr. Kerr Boyce and family, 
and especially to the fair daughter of the Palmetto 
state. But they were limited to their time, and so 
proposed traveling immediately to the Phine, thence 
down the river, and back to Paris ; while our route 
led us eastward through Switzerland, thence up North 
as far as the Prussian capital, and southward thence 
to the sunny plains of Italy. 

But before leaving Geneva, we of course made an 
excursion up to Chamouny, in order to have a nearer 
glimpse at old Mont Blanc. A few miles beyond the 
walls of the city, we entered the kingdom of Sardinia, 
on whose boundaries our passports must needs be 
examined, lest the trace of our errant footsteps might 
here be lost. Such is the passport system of Conti- 
nental Europe, and so certain are the clues by which 
the traveler is attached, that his pathway may be 
traced, and, if necessary, his course arrested, vv^ith as 
unerring precision, as though the eyes of Argus and 

(77; 



78 Memories over the Water. 

the hands of Briareiis were ever about him. Our 
road through Sardinia led us over a broken and 
varied landscape, whose alternate features were lofty 
mountain and deep ravine, fruitful valley and fertile 
plain, dashing cascade, and mountain torrent. Par- 
ticularly beautiful was one fountain which we saw, 
springing sheer out from the mountain height, and 
falling in comet-like spray upon the rocks below. 
Reached the village of St. Martin about noon, where 
we changed our carriage for a species of vehicle, 
used especially for mountain travel, and denominated, 
in the lingo of the country, '' Char-a-bancs." Just 
beyond St. Martin ripples a bold little stream, over 
whose limpid waters is thrown a picturesque stone 
bridge, where each and every traveler pauses to look 
again on the majesty of Mont Blanc ; for, from this 
point, a clear and unobstructed view may be had of 
his huge proportions. Moving onward, we pass by 
several immense glaciers, which stretch themselves 
down from the mountain top, like huge robes of molten 
silver, rolling from the brawny shoulders of the hills, 
and reach Chamouny about sunset. 

Being in a meditative mood that evening, we 
walked out alone, to look, without interruption, upon 
the grandeur that encompassed us on every side. The 
goddess of the night had not yet begun her course 
through the azure sky, and her expectant train were 
looking eastward for her coming. Mont Blanc is 
beautiful, as the last rays of the setting sun linger 
and play upon its summit ! It is beautiful when the 



Memories oyer the Water. 79 

gorgeous Day-king, from his rosy couch arising, first 
greets its unsullied brow, kissing away the mists that 
have gathered there, with his ardent rays ! But glo- 
rious, supremely beautiful is it, when the pale mother 
of dreams hath gathered under her sable wings the 
silent earth, and the still spirit of night is brooding, 
like the ghost of an extinguished world, above our 
globe. We rested in the solemn stillness of the hour, 
under the deep and somber shadows of the great 
mountain before us, which, lifting its lofty head high 
into the blue vault of heaven, seemed, with its chaste 
brow of virgin snow, a meet abiding-place for the 
spirit of its Creator. Pure, proud, and peerless it 
stood ! All was silent as the dream of death, as 
nature calmly slept beneath the holy watch of the 
stars. Not a single cloud was seen to vail the sacred 
head of earth's high altar — not a light- winged zephyr 
stirred the slumbering leaves. But elevating was the 
grandeur and inspiring the all-pervading beauty of 
the scene. The faint outline of the white mountain- 
top seemed mingling with the arch of heaven, while 
the brio:ht stars encircled its brow like a brilliant 
tiara. Well hath the child of poetry sung — 

" Mont Blanc is the monarcli of mountains ; 
They crowned him long ago — 
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
With a diadem of snow/' 

On the following morning, we had mules ordered, 
and started for Flegere, a lofty point on the west side 
of the Chamouny valley. Our entire company seemed 



80 Memories over the Water. 

most merrily disposed, and woman's silvery laugh 
blended in sweet accord with the hoarser mirth of 
man, as our sagacious animals picked their way along 
the tortuous mountain-path, making progress, slow, 
but sure, up the toilsome ascent. We met, on our 
journey up the mountain, lasses in great profusion, 
who, with saucers of fruit, and glasses of goat's milk 
in their hands, accost the traveler, and invite him to 
refreshment. But " excelsior" is our motto, and still 
higher we urge on our faithful mules. Here we 
encounter a clamorous bevy of highland maids, and 
there, under the shadow of that tree to the right, 
reclines a young Englishman, adding to the numerous 
scenes of his sketch-book. At last, we reach our 
destination, but with mountain-heights still towering 
above us. Our ambition, however, is satisfied, and 
so we decline further ascension, well content to rest 
and gaze on the glorious views around, about, below, 
above us : at the sweet little valley, economically 
cultivated, glowing with golden grain and deep-green 
verdure, far down in the chasm below ; on the num- 
berless peaks above and around us ; and lastly, on 
the sky-kissing summit of the snow-clad monarch — 
the home and throne of Winter, where, robed in his 
white mantle, he sits, looking down on Summer 
kneeling at his feet. 

But now we begin our descent, some laughing, and 
some chatting, some walking, with highland stock 
in hand, and some quietly sitting on their mules, 
when hark ! we stop and hold our breath, as the first 



Memories ovek the Water. 81 

roar of the Alpine ayalanche is borne, like muttering 
thunder to our ears. The avalanche ! the avalanche I 
now leaps from tongue to tongue, and our hearts rise 
and swell with the rushing sound, and only resume 
their regular beating as the murmuring echo rolls 
away, like " dying thunder on the distant wind." 

Reached our hotel in safety, dined heartily, mounted 
our mules, and were off for the famous " Mer de 
glace," situated high up on the east side of the valley. 
Clambered up the rocky pathway, now through the 
dense shade of the pine, and now across the fearful 
track of some former avalanche, that with mighty 
sweep had made bare the mountain side. Reached 
the little rustic hotel, and there leaving our mules, 
we descended on foot, and clambered over this won- 
derful " sea of ice," whose surface is covered with 
stones of immense weight and magnitude, brought 
down from the heights above, and fearfully dangerous 
with its deep fissures and slippery chasms. These 
huge glaciers glide gradually down, through their 
deep beds in the mountain side, to the valley below, 
as the accumulating weight of snow above presses 
onward the solid, glittering mass, which, as it reaches 
the warmer atmosphere of the valley, terminates in a 
mountain stream. Occasionally, a part breaks away, 
which then occasions the most destructive of ava- 
lanches. 

But time fails us to mention the myriad wonders 
here displayed: we can only confide them to the 
keeping of memory. There is proverbially much 
7 



82 Memories over the Water. 

humbug in the stories of travelers, and, as a general 
thing we found it so. But in Switzerland there can 
be no disappointment. Eeality often far exceeds the 
utmost anticipation, and you only wonder why more 
has not been said and sung. No cramped and disap- 
pointed feeling can find place in the heart of the 
traveler as he journeys amid the deep and inspiring 
beauties of the Alps. The free spirit goes exultingly 
forth, and worships on its buoyant wings, amid the 
mighty tabernacles of nature. 



CHAPTER XI, 



On our return from Chamouny we again resumed 
our route of travel, and now proceeded by private 
conveyance, called in the language of the country, 
traveling by '^ Vetturini." These ^' Vetturini " agree, 
for a certain amount, to convey you from one desig- 
nated point to another, and, if you wish it, within a 
certain time, furnishing for you both the carriage and 
horses. This mode of traveling in Switzerland, or 
any other country, which you may wish to see 
thoroughly, is, by far, preferable to any other, and is 
generally adopted by those traveling in parties. So, 
starting out from "Hotel L'Ecu" with ''four in 
hand," wo rattled across "the blue waters of the 
arrowy Ehone," and winding along the northern 
margin of lake Geneva, we made our way toward the 
head of Leman's waters. The tinkling bells about 
our horses' necks jingled merrily, the wind blew 
lustily, and the little black dog of our coachman 
barked with delight as we drove on through the land 
of William TelL The route was a beautiful one ; the 
clear blue waters of Leman were dancing in the breeze 
just on our right, while immediately on our left arose 

the vine-clad, and stone-terraced hills, with soil well 

r83) 



84 Memories over the Water. 

tilled and space closely economized, while many a 
pretty chateau and rustic chapel peered through the 
openings of autumn's golden umbrage. At the bend 
of the lake we passed by the beautiful city of Lau- 
sanne, situated just on the brow of the hill on our 
left, and famous for its cathedral and college. In a 
few hours afterward w^e reached the village of Yevey, 
and procured apartments at the ''Hotel des Trois 
Couronnes," most beautifully located immediately on 
the beach of the lake, and one of the handsomest 
establishments of the kind to be found in Europe. 
Pleasure boats, of every description, are moored hard 
by the hotel door, and every facility offered for excur- 
sions out upon the water. No wonder that Byron 
and Gibbon, Eousseau and Voltaire, Calvin and Do 
Stael should have loved the fresh, fair banks of 
" romantic Leman," for never yet hath our eye rested 
on a land so fertile in beauty and grandeur of scenery ; 
whose mountains are so majestic, or whose waters so 
blue ; whose valleys rejoice with their golden har- 
vests, and whose hills blush with the purple grape. 
Far away over the rolling billow, in our own native 
land, we were wont to look on such scenes, so sacred 
in the associations of history and of poetry, as holy 
beauties, which we must ever w^orship afar off. But 
now were we brought into very contact with them . We 
had stood where Byron wrote ; where Calvin preached ; 
where Voltaire sneered ; where Eousseau lived ; where 
Csesar trod, and we, ail-but, feared the spell of the 
enchantment might thenceforth be broken. 



Memories oa'er the Water. 85 

About eirfit o'clock on the foUowino^ mornino; we 
procured carriages from the hotel, and set out on an 
excursion toward '' Chillon's snow-white battlements," 
where the scene of that touching story, "the Prisoner 
of Chillon," is laid. The castle lies just in the edge 
of the water, and the waves lave on every side its 
weather-beaten walls. How lovely was the morning; 
how cool the mountain air ; how still the placid lake ; 
how gi^een the Alpine sides ; how white their hoary 
brows ! Our fine horse bore us rapidly from the hotel 
to the castle, a distance of some sis or eight miles, 
when we were taken in charge by a merry lady, who 
officiated as our guide for the day. But Byron has 
more prettily spoken of this spot than we may possi- 
bly speak : 

" Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, 
And thy sad floor an altar, for ^twas trod, 
Until his very steps have left a trace. 
Worn as if the cold pavement were a sod. 
By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface, 
For they appeal from tyranny to God." 

We saw those traces worn in the living rock, by the 
impatient footsteps of the luckless Bonnivard, who, 
for six long years, was here imprisoned. We saw the 
pillar, and the iron bolt by which he was confined. 
Entered the room in which tradition asserts that two 
thousand Jews were put to death ; and stood upon the 
very rock upon which the most of them were smoth- 
ered ; saw, too, the beam on which some of their 
bodies were hung, and the window through which 
they were cast into the lake. 



86 Memoeies over the Water. 

'' There are seven pillars of Gothic mold 
In Chillon's dungeons, deep and old ; 
There are seven columns massy and gray ; 
Dim with a dull imprisoned ray.'' 

On these gray columns are found the names of 
many illustrious men, who have visited Chillon — 
among them, that of Byron in his own hand. Saw 
through the window the little spec of an island, so 
minutely described in the poem — 

" And then there was a little isle 
That in my very face did smile ! 
A small green isle — it seemed no more — 
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, 
But in it there were three tall trees, 
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze. 
And by it there were waters flowing, 
And on it there were young flowers growing, 
Of gentle breath and hue." 

Leaving the dungeons, we were next conducted 
through the various apartments of the castle. Saw 
the sleeping chamber of the Duke of Savoy, and the 
curiously carved bed-post, which was made in the 
fifteenth century. Now the merry lady, our guide, 
had, in the beginning, admonished us against taking 
away any of the mementoes, that might be Ijing 
about ; but we must have something to remind us in 
after days of our visit to Chillon, and so while our 
fair cicerone was busily engaged in relating some old 
tradition in the adjoining room, we most irreverently 
did borrow from the good bishop his own knife, and 
therewith did feloniously cut away one of the numer- 
ous little knobs of the carving, where many a similar 



Memories oyer the Water. 87 

spoliation had been made. But in our guilty hurry 
the truth of the maxim, that " honesty is the best 
policy," was fully illustrated, for the knife suddenly 
slipped, and our hand striking hard against the sharp 
carving, a couple of badly bruised fingers, caused us, 
for some time after, to have a very vivid recollection 
of that same old bed-post. 

Dropping some small coin into the hand of our 
guide, we bade her good morning, and returned to 
Yevey. Passed by Clarens, " birthplace of deep 
love," and had the " Chateau Blonay " pointed out 
on the right, said to have been in the possession of 
the family, who now occupy it, for upward of seven 
hundred years. 



CHAPTER XII. 



From Vcvey our route led us northward toward the 
Bernese Alps. Ascending the high hills in the rear 
of the village, we had a constant and successive change 
of the most witching scenery, afforded by the gradual 
ascent of the tortuous road, as it wound gracefully up 
the mountain height. When about three miles from 
Balle we met the ''Diligence," and in it we dis- 
covered the familiar face of our Nashville friend, R. 
W, McGavock, who, in company with young John- 
stone, of So. Ca., was traveling down to Geneva. He 
likewise recognized our company and got out to speak 
with us. Unfortunately he delayed too long, and the 
impatient driver of the ^'Diligence" drove ofl' and he 
was left on the roadside to make his way as best he 
might to Yevey. We subsequently learned that he 
arrived in safety, having footed it a portion of the way, 
when meeting with the cart of a countryman he took 
a seat by the side of the peasant and thus entered the 
village. We reached Balle about dusk, and rested 
for that night at the hotel of the " Cheval Blanc." 

Early on the following morning we took a stroll 
down to a neighboring village, whose name we have 
forgotten. But entering the church-yard, we were 

(88) 



Memories oyer the Water. 89 

witness to a peculiar custom of the country. Within 
a small recess of the church-wall was an immense 
quanty of human skulls and bones. The latter were 
all carefully piled up, and systematically arranged the 
one upon the other, while capping this pyramid of in- 
animate humanity was exposed a ghostly array of 
skulls, grinning ghastly smiles upon the intrusive 
traveler. 

Returned to our hotel, and were soon journeying on 
toward the city of Berne. The morning was clear 
and cloudless, and the face of nature had dawned its 
sweetest smile. But the fresh, fair countenance of 
Switzerland is in sad contrast with the homely visages 
of her children. The people are generally courteous 
and honest, but by no means handsome. The women 
perform much of the drudgery of the land, laboring 
daily in the open fields with their brothers and hus- 
bands. As we passed them in groups, with their 
broad-brimmed hats flapping upon their shoulders 
engaged in gathering in the harvest, we would greet 
them with a smile and a bow, which they would 
merrily return, seeming both amused and gratified at 
our salutations. 

About noon we rode into the fine old town of 
Freiburg, w^ith its ancient walls and time-worn 
cathedral. Dined at the " Zahringer Hof," which 
commands a fine view of the two celebrated suspen- 
sion bridges, overhanging the deep gorge of the 
Saarine river, and then went to hear the famous organ 



90 Memories oyer the Water. 

in the church of St. Nicholas, said to be the finest in 
the world, and whose mournful music has been known 
to draw tears from the eye of the wayfaring stranger. 
But such was not its efiect upon us, though we felt 
the inspiration of its deep-toned melody in all its 
touching beauty. Now its soft, sweet notes came 
forth, like the low murmur of love upon the heart of 
the young, and now the lofty arches were echoing 
with the full flood of melody, that rolled along their 
swelling sides like the loud chorus of angel and 
archangel. Anon some dulcet note would steal like 
the whisper of an angel upon our ears, and then the 
loud peal of the thunder and the lightning crash 
would seem to shake the old cathedral to its deepest 
foundations as the representation of the storm con- 
cluded. 

On our return to the hotel, we saw the old lime- 
tree, twenty feet in circumference, which, according to 
the tradition of the town, was thus planted on the 
day of the battle of Morat, in 1476. A Freibour- 
geois youth, wounded in the fierce engagement, ran 
with a lime-branch in his hand from the scene of 
conflict to his native city, to communicate the glad 
tidings of triumph. He reached the home of his 
fathers, faint and bleeding, and shouting with his last 
feeble breath, the cry of victory, he fell into the arms 
of death. The branch that he bore in his hand was 
planted on the spot, and grew into an immense tree. 
Centuries have showered their summers and their 



Memories oyer the Water. 91 

snows upon its venerable boughs, and yet it still 
stands, to commemorate the name and yirtnes of that 
noble youth. Such, at least, is the tradition. 

Freiburg is one of the strongholds of the Eomish 
priesthood, and there we first saw the Capuchin friar, 
in all his coarse attire — rough, brown gown, long 
and flowing beard, closely shaved head, and sandals 
without stockings. There is something which com- 
mands our admiration in the self-denial of the Chris- 
tian, and much to respect in the exercise of his true 
penitence and unaffected contrition ; but there is 
nothing commendable in the outward show of pen- 
ance, nor yet anything praiseworthy in such a dis- 
regard for the fashions of earth, as to dress in filth 
and rags, as we have seen many of the Capuchin 
order. 

About three o'clock, p. m., we were again "en 
route," crossing over the famous suspension -bridge, 
said to be the longest, of a single sweep, in the world. 
Its length is estimated at 941 feet, its elevation above 
the water 180 feet, and its width 22 feet and 11 
inches. The scenery still continued beautiful, here a 
smiling valley, there a green-clad hill, and now and 
then we could descry the sky-piercing peaks of the 
Bernese range peering over the line of lofty hills on 
our right. About sundown, we entered Berne by the 
gate of Morat, which is flanked on each side by the 
image of an enormous bear. Bruin seems to be the 
presiding divinity of the good city of Berne ; for he 



92 Memories over the Water. 

has a fat office, and lives at the public expense. The 
citizens take great pride in their pet, and willingly 
contribute to his generous sustenance. We put up at 
" L'Hotel du Faucon," and thence strolled down to the 
Terrace, which, supported by a massive wall of heavy 
masonry, rises 188 feet above the foaming Aar. 
This elevation is planted in trees, and serves as a 
public promenade for the citizens ; and from here a 
beautiful view of the Bernese Alps is presented — six 
white peaks, rising in regular succession, like so 
many tall giants, clad with silver helmets, and stand- 
ing out in bold relief against the blue sky beyond. 
Some of the peculiarities of Berne are its curious 
old town-clock, its gloomy arcades, its bear-decked 
fountains, and the Swiss soldier— not sword in hand, 
but pipe in mouth. 

Made an early start on the following morning, and 
reached the village of Thun about ten a. m. Had all 
variety of scenery, and were especially pleased with 
the appearance of the queer old Swiss cottages, their 
roofs covered with stones to prevent their being blown 
away, and with pious and patriotic sentiments written 
over their doorways — ''bound like frontlets on their 
brows." We went over the old feudal castle of Thun, 
said to be seven hundred years old. Stood in the 
churchyard terrace, which Byron speaks of in his 
letters as affording some of the finest views in the 
world. Our horses being fed and refreshed, we moved 
on toward Interlaken, along the southern margin of 



Memories over the Water. 93 

lakeThun. The old hills looked dreamily down upon 
its classic waters, soothed, as it were, into a quiet sleep, 
and slumbering away in the soft and hazy atmos- 
phere. Passed through the dilapidated village of 
Unterseen, at the head of the lake, and entered Inter- 
laken, a most beautiful summer resort, and especially 
patronized by the wealthy class of the Traveling 
English. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Interlaken is one of the most beautiful villages in 
the world. Located just between the waters of Lake 
Thun and Lake Brienz — and hence its name, Inter- 
laken — it commands every variety of scenery, from 
the virgin snows of the Jung-Frau to the placid 
waters of Thun; from the lofty brow of the " Silver 
Horn" to the still bosom of Brienz; from the dense 
forest of the mountain to the wild flower of the valley. 
Being sustained almost exclusively by the patronage 
of the wealthy and the cultivated, each and every 
building within its corporate limits is handsomely 
ornamented both in style of architecture, and in the 
decorations of shrubs and flowers. An atmosphere 
of health and purity seemed to pervade the place, 
for we found within its fair borders neither the care- 
worn visage of poverty, nor the bloated countenance 
of vice. 

Immediately after our arrival we procured a couple 
of light carriages, and struck out westward toward 
Lauterbrunnen, passing by the old and dilapidated 
Castle of Unspunnen, the reputed residence of Byron's 
Manfred. The walls are all crumbling away under 
the burden of their vears, and the green ivy grows 

(94) 



Memories oyer the Water. 95 

lovingly over their moldering ruins, seeking as it 
were to conceal the desolation of decay. We now 
enter the wild and broken gorge of the Liitschine 
torrent, presenting to the eye of the traveler a most 
savage and sublime appearance, the craggy cliffs 
rising abruptly on either hand to kiss the fleecy 
clouds. In many places we found the strata of rocks 
of curious formation, being curved and contorted, 
reminding one of that pristine state which geologists 
tell about, when earth was young, and the liquid 
mass of primeval matter bubbled up from the boiling 
caldron of chaotic nature. Saw on the roadside 
"the brother's stone," marking the spot where one 
brother fell by the hand of the other. The legend 
tells how the fate of the first Cain pursued the 
wretched fratricide, and wandering off among the 
mountains he perished with the wild beasts of the 
field. 

About two miles from the gateway of the Lutschine 
gorge, the chasm diverges, the right hand leading 
up to Lauterbrunnen, and the left to Grindelwald. 
Lauterbrunnen lies two thousand four hundred and 
fifty feet above sea-level, and yet is so sunk within 
the sides of the mountain-chasm that in summer the 
sun is never visible before seven o'clock, and in the 
winter not before noon. From the brows of the over- 
hanging clifls, dangle no less than thirty cascades, 
falling like threads of silver into the valley below. 
They all, however, " hide their diminished heads" 
before the exquisite beauty of the Staubbach, one of 



96 Memories over the Water. 

the most wonderful waterfalls in Europe, measuring 
eight hundred feet in height. The volume of water is 
not great, and as it pours over the wave-worn cliff 
down into the dark ravine, most of it, ere it reaches 
the bottom, is converted into gentle spray, and looks, 
with the sun-light streaming the colors of the rainbow 
among the crystal drops, like some angel of light and 
beauty weeping down into the gloom of Hades. 
Byron thus mentions this cascade in his Manfred — 

•* The sunbow's rays still arch 
The torrent with the many hues of heaven. 
And roll the sheeted silver's waving column 
O'er crags headlong perpendicular; 
And fling its line of foaming light along. 
And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail. 
The giant steeds to be bestrode by death. 
As told in the Apocalypse/' 

The traveler from Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen 
meets with beggars innumerable; but there is one 
feature about their profession which not only robs the 
calling of one-half its objections, but will fully com- 
pensate the passenger for the exercise of his charity. 
The mountain girls, sometimes with instruments of 
music, keep pace with the "char-a-banc," warbling 
their wild Swiss melodies, which find an echo for 
every note along the mountain side. This they do 
not without the expectation of reward ; and as to the 
flower girl of Florence, so to the minstrel girl of Swit- 
zerland you must give, if but for the poetry of their 
vocation. 



Memoeies oyer the TVater. 97 

On the following clay we were up bright and early, 
and paid a second visit to the Stanbbach. The morn 
was all roseate with beauty and laughing with joy, 
while the mountain air seemed as permeant ambrosia 
to our system. Returning to the hotel, escorted by a 
whole bevy of tow-headed damsels, we dispatched our 
breakfast, and made preparations for returning to 
Interlaken. Mrs. Eakin, little Willie, and Antonia 
went immediately back by carriage, vvhile the remain- 
der of our party purposed crossing the Wengern Alp 
on horseback. As we left the hotel, Henry and our- 
self being in the rear of the rest, we started off in a 
great hurry, and in endeavoring to quicken the pace 
of our lazy animal by the application of Solomon's 
principle, we broke a pretty little cane that we had 
brought all the way from Mont Blanc as a memento. 
As for friend Fogg, he got on pretty well, until he 
reached a stable on the roadside, where his obstinate 
steed called a determined halt, and neither kicks nor 
coaxing would induce him to proceed. The entire 
vocabulary of endearing epithets was exhausted, 
switches inmimerable worn out, and even the force of 
heels well nigh spent, yet with head tucked down 
and ears thrown back the ungracious beast stood 
immovable. How the result would have been we 
cannot tell, had not one of the guides, who had loit- 
ered behind, now come up, and led the stubborn old 
fellow along beyond view of the tempting stable. 
Spurring across the ''Lutschine Blanc," nearly oppo- 
site the Staubbach, we commenced the steep and toil- 
S 



98 Memories oyer the Water. 

some ascent of the Wengern Alp. Unlike the hardy 
mule, our horses must, every now and then, be per- 
mitted a breathing spell. On reaching the first bench 
of the mountain we bore off to the right, and had a 
view of Interlaken, Ij^ing far down in the valley of the 
Thun. Turning now up to the left, we crossed over 
a boggy meadow on the mountain side, and soon after 
reached the rustic hotel, immediately facing the Jung- 
Frau. The day was '^ beautiful as a dream," and in 
every respect favorable for the falling of the ava- 
lanche. We took our seats on the rough wooden 
bench, in front of the ''Half-way House," and list- 
ened to the faint, musical tinkling of the cow-bells, as 
their patient bearers fed far down in the valley. All 
else is silent, when suddenly we are startled by the 
roar of the avalanche, and casting our eyes over to 
the snow-clad sides of the mountains opposite, we 
see it rushing down, producing a sound that exactly 
resembles the distant murmuring of deep-toned thun- 
der. The grandeur of the avalanche, however, as it 
is witnessed on a warm day among the Alps, consists 
more in the sound than in the sight, so much so that 
you can hardly realize that those echoing thunders 
arise from yon small cascade of snow, as it steals on its 
meandering course down to the valley. But the trav- 
eler must bear in mind that he stands at a distance, 
and that those appare^itly insignificant streams of 
snow are composed of whole tons of ice — and woe to 
"the hamlet of the harmless villager" that lies in the 
sweep of their pathway. We heard and saw no less 



Memoeies oyer the Watee. 99 

than half a dozen avalanches in the course of an hour, 
and then resumed our passage over the mountain. 
About two miles further on we attained the summit of 
the pass, where is situated a clean, white " chalet," and 
from this point we had a most beautiful view of Grin- 
delwald, loosely sprinkled along the well-tilled valley. 
This ''chalet" is six thousand two hundred and eighty 
feet above the level of the sea. We now pass from 
under the smile of the ''Young Bride," and com- 
mence our descent, which is steep and dangerous to 
ride. We passed in sight of many trees, which 
seemed to have been shattered either by storm or 
avalanche. Of this spot Byron thus speaks — 
" Whole woods of withered pines, all withered ; 
trunks stripped and barkless ; branches lifeless ; done 
by a single winter ; their appearance reminded me of 
myself and family." As we descended still further, 
our approach was hailed, as usual, by the sound of 
music ; the little boys running ahead of us and 
blowing on their Alpine horns to produce the echo, 
while a little farther down sat an old woman, in front 
of her cottage, picking away on a species of the 
mandelin, and making good music. 

Found our carriage in waiting at the "Hotel des 
Ours," and getting in we started down the valley of 
the " Lutschine Noir," toward Interlaken. Occasion- 
ally we would encounter an old woman with an 
immense goitre, standing on the roadside, and with 
extended hand soliciting charity. Her deformity she 
keeps carefully and conspicuously exposed, which she 



100 Memories over the Water. 

has learned will excite the sympathy of the traveler, 
and then extract the gift. The goitre is very preva- 
lent among the Swiss, many having the tumor as 
large and sometimes even larger than the head. But 
this unldndness of dame Nature is frequently found 
to be a prolific source of revenue, for placing himself 
in a prominent position on the roadside, he who can 
parade the most unsightly spectacle will, in proportion 
to the extent of his deformity, realize a pecuniary 
profit. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



On resuming our journey from Interlaken, the 
majority of our company went on to Lucerne, by the 
carriage, while we and the Bishop took the following 
route : Leaving our baggage to be carried around by 
the coachman, we started by early sunrise from the 
hotel, and taking a row-boat at the foot of Lake 
Brienz, we went gliding over its peaceful waters, to 
the village of the same name, situated near the east- 
ern extremity of the lake. We arrived about nine 
o'clock, A. M., and, having procured a guide and a 
couple of Alpine stocks, we set out afoot to make the 
pass of the Brunig. Brienz we found to be an old 
and shattered village, with nothing very remarkable 
about it, excepting, perhaps, the great quantity of 
fancy woodwork that is here manufactured. The 
Swiss peasants, during the long hours of winter, 
when they are confined within doors, employ their 
leisure time in cutting out all manner of curious 
devices in wood, which find a ready sale, as memen- 
toes, among the travelers through that region of coun- 
try. We did not leave the village before the Bishop 
had made the purchase of several articles ; and we, 

forsooth, had bought a devil. Sulphur and brimstone 

' ' " ' rioi) 



102 Memories over the Water. 

are generally associated with our ideas of his Satanic 
majesty, and so the ingenious architect had strapped 
a match-box to the back of Sir Lucifer, reckoning it 
an applicable ornament. — " Get thee behind me, 
Satan," said we, as we rammed the gentleman of the 
cloven foot into our coat-pocket, and followed on after 
our reverend companion. With a devil behind, and 
a bishop before us, we congratulated ourself upon the 
comical variety of our fellowship, and trudged onward 
up the valley, along the foot of the mountain. In 
about one hour we reached the pathway that led up- 
ward toward the Brunig, and here we began our 
ascent. Our guide was a merry fellow, and though 
he spoke not a word of English or of French, still he 
seemed determined to hold converse with us on our 
upward tramp. By various signs and gesticulations, 
we strove to instruct him in our own vernacular, 
while he readily sought to enlighten us in the jaw- 
breaking German. Frequently we would pause, to 
look down on the valley, and occasionally to send a 
stone leaping and bounding away over all opposition, 
to the base of the mountain. The cool and refreshing 
breezes of the mountain braced up our limbs, sending 
an elastic strength and a new health dancing through 
every vein, as we strode sturdily onward and upward. 
On reaching the summit, we found there the usual 
refreshment-room, where we rested over a bottle of 
wine. On again taking up our line of march, we, 
(the singular number, of course,) found that the 
generous beverage had so mellowed our spirits, and 



Memoeies over the Water. 103 

enliyened our tongue, that we made merry with 
Bishop, guide, and devil, and on any subject that 
might come uppermost in our mind. Soon after 
leaving the rustic retreat, we encountered a second 
party, who were crossing over to Brienz. They were on 
the well-beaten bridle-path, and we on the smooth 
footpath, being distant from each other about one 
hundred yards. But a salute must be given, and so 
lifting our hats upon our Alpine stocks, and waving 
them toward the advancing party, we raised a genuine 
Yankee hurrah. The compliment was understood and 
appreciated; for, imitating the example, they too, 
raised their hats in return, the ladies waving their 
white '' mouchoirs," while a shout of hearty good-will 
echoed among the mountain-tops. Thus we passed, 
each party doubtless feeling all the better for the warm 
and friendly greeting. Presently we reached the spot 
where stands an old chapel, and from which we 
looked down on the village of Lungerne. From this 
point we began our descent, the mountain-path being 
steep and precipitous, hewn out into steps, and over- 
hanging a deep chasm. The clustering branches 
overarched the pathway, excluding every ray of sun, 
and shrouding it in a mantle of deepest shade, ren- 
dering the route peculiarly romantic and inspiring. 
On reaching Lungerne, we were well willing to rest 
our wearied limbs in a small carriage, which bore us 
along the southern shores of Lakes Lungerne and 
Sarnen, to the village of Alpnach. Passed by several 
huge bowlders along the way, and by the lonely stone 



104 Memories ovek the Water. 

cross and the miniature chapel that stood by the road- 
side, we knew that we had again entered a Roman 
Catholic canton. One little white cross we recollect, 
which stood solitary and alone, far up upon the high- 
est summit of a bare and isolated peak, scarcely 
visible from the road, but pointing, with extended 
arms, high into the pure heavens above. We can see 
it now, as it glimmered, like a dim spec, on the lofty 
brow of the naked mountain, and we even remember 
the face of the Swiss girl, who, as we were gazing on 
the distant cross, came tripping out from her 
mother's cottage, and offered her basket of mellow 
fruit. 

On reaching Alpnach we again took the row-boat, 
and speeding over the ''Alpnach Bay," we rounded 
the point on our left, and glided out into the beautiful 
" Lake of the Four Cantons." The golden sun was 
vailing his face behind a bank of clouds, that girdled 
the craggy head of Old Pilatus, while the atmosphere 
was of that soft and sweet description, which, in the 
gentle twilight of autumn, makes the heart grow 
fond and pensive. The lake was calm as Beauty's 
sleep, extending in all directions, and its smooth sur- 
face of the deepest green. Still bearing to the right, 
we rounded several other points, just off one of which, 
stood out, like a sulky schoolboy, a small rocky 
island, on whose top was erected a little chapel to the 
Virgin Mary. On our right stood up the famous 
Rigi, to whose summit it is required that every trav- 
eler should ascend. It was now growing dark, and, 



Memories over the Water. 105 

as we glided on, we would now and then encounter 
some other boat, and rowed by women^ who looked, 
in the dim twilight, like witches of the water, as they 
stood bolt upright at the helm, impelling their frail, 
plank boats. Our senses were lulled into a dreamy, 
thoughtful mood, and we could almost imagine the 
spectral boat, as it glided silently by, to be guided by 
the hand of some Sibyl of old, as she sought her 
lonely cave by the shore of the lake — some Demo- 
phile, perhaps, who had been wandering forth to 
gather the leaves on w^hich to inscribe her prophetic 
verses. 

But rounding now our final point, the city of Lu- 
cerne came in view, with its tower-studded walls, and 
tall, tapering spires. In a few moments more, we 
landed at the door of our hotel, the " Schweizerhof," 
an elegant and handsome structure, situated imme- 
diately on the lake, and looking out over its still, 
calm waters. 

On the following morning, it being Sunday, we 
attended divine service at the English chapel. These 
Protestant churches are quite numerous throughout 
the Catholic countries of Europe, and we have fre- 
quently found an English chapel attached to the first- 
class hotels, in order to draw the English patronage. 
After service, we visited the long, queer, old painting- 
decked bridges, the two Cathedrals, and ''Thorwals- 
den's Lion." This celebrated piece of sculpture is cut 
and chiseled out from the solid rock, which rises in 
a perpendicular bluff* to a considerable height, and in 
9 



106 Memories over the Water. 

a recess, hewn out of the blufi', reclines the lordly 
lion, a broken spear piercing his side. Immediately 
at the foot of the statue, is a pool of water, which 
adds to the effect of the scene. The figure of the 
wounded lion is colossal, and his mournful face is full 
of expressive sorrow. The first view that you catch 
through the foliage of the trees, as you approach the 
spot, is the best. 



CHAPTER XV, 



It was our purpose, on the morning after reaching 
Lucerne, to make the ascent of the Eigi; but the 
summit being vailed in clouds, and the entire pano- 
rama thus shut out from view, our labor would have 
been lost. Even old Mont Pilatus, whose rough head 
serves as a weather-index to the good people of 
Lucerne, had donned his cloudy cap, thus promising 
a rain. Concerning this mountain there is an ancient 
tradition, that Pontius Pilate, after consenting to the 
death of our Saviour, was so haunted by the dark- 
winged spirit of remorse, that he wandered over the 
face of the earth, a fugitive from the scourges of con- 
science, and finding life at last an intolerable burden, 
he threw himself headlong from the heights of this 
craggy peak, and hence came the name, Mont Pilatus. 

About eight o'clock a. m., we left the city of 
Lucerne, and wound along the northern margin of 
Coosnacht Bay, passing by the spot where the mem- 
orable " slide of the Eossberg" took place, devastating 
four several villages, and burying more than four 
hundred human beings beneath its destructive march. 
We reached Zugg about noon, and here launched. 
Visited the old cathedral, with its long flight of stone 

(107; 



108 Memories ovek the Water. 

steps, and strolled out upon the pier that reaches out 
into the lake. About two o'clock we were again on 
the move, and all in a feverish excitement about the 
execution of Lopez and his fifty comrades by the 
Cuban authorities, which intelligence we had acci- 
dentally learned from an American gentleman, whom 
w^e encountered at Zugg, and w^ho himself was furious 
with indignation. 

On the road from Lucerne to Arth, at the foot of 
the Eossberg, is the Chapel of William Tell, erected 
to commemorate the celebrated incidents of Gessler's 
death. In the chapel there is a painting, which 
represents the lordly tyrant pierced by the avenging 
shaft of the immortal Tell, and falling headlong from 
his horse. He is surrounded by his warlike, but now 
woe-stricken retinue, who look in vain for the secret 
hand that guided the death-dealing arrow. The very 
spot is pointed out where the champion of liberty lay 
concealed, and also the identical place w^here Gessler 
fell. Near the latter spot we plucked a green leaf as 
a memento, and again taking our seats we resumed 
our journey. Late in the afternoon we came suddenly 
on a view of the lake and city of Zurich, the hills 
rising gradually up from the edge of the water, like 
the tiers of some vast amphitheater. The borders of 
the lake were all beautifully sprinkled with their 
pretty white chateaus, presenting to the eye a very 
pleasant aspect. Lucerne contains about nine thou- 
sand inhabitants, and Zurich about fifteen thousand. 
The latter is noted for its silk manufactures, and as 



Memories over the Water. 109 

being one of the first cities where the Reformation 
found a foothold. The appearance of the place indi- 
cates a present prosperous condition, as well as a 
recent advancement in growth of manufactures and 
commerce. The respective situations of Geneva, 
Lucerne and Zurich are strikingly similar. For in- 
stance, Geneva is located at the foot of Lake Geneva, 
and divided by the river Rhone ; Lucerne at the foot 
of lake Lucerne, and divided by the river Reuss ; 
Zurich at the foot of lake Zurich, and divided by the 
river Limmat. 

We rested but one night at Zurich, and started, 
about our usual time, on the following morning for 
the famous " Fall of the Rhine." Taking down the 
northern bank of the rapid Limmat we made our way 
over a capital road toward the town of Schaffhausen. 
All along the route, the agrarian countrymen were 
engaged in breaking up their grounds with heavy, 
cumbrous ploughs, with broad coulters, and running 
on wheels. As a remarkable fact, these plow^s were 
drawn by milch cows. We passed on through seve- 
ral old villages, and when about twenty miles from 
Zurich we crossed over the Rhine, by a covered 
wooden bridge, into the village of Eglisau. Here our 
coachman baited his horses on bread, baked for that 
especial purpose, and again we moved on. Soon after 
we arrived at the ^' Hotel Weber," overlooking the 
Falls of the Rhine. These much-talked-of Falls 
have nothing of grandeur about them, but are very 
beautiful, as you look down from the terrace of the 



110 Memories over the Water. 

hotel upon a noble river, rushing over a fall of some 
thirty feet in height. Two small and isolated stone 
islands stand up just on the verge of the waterfall, 
thus dividing the stream into three separate parts. 
The snow-white foam, caused by the rush of the rapid 
current over the rocks above, is exquisitely beautiful, 
and as the racing torrent plunges over the rocky 
ledge, the wreathing spray, with its attendant iris, 
"rises like incense from the altar of nature." 

Among our memories of " Hotel Weber'' we may 
not forget the beautiful and blushing young bride, 
that we encountered upon the hotel terrace. Her fair 
face flitted for a moment only athwart our delighted 
vision, then passed away. It came like the flash of 
some loving sunbeam upon the dark waters of mem- 
ory, and was gone. Seen but for a moment, it will 
yet linger for a lifetime amid the phantom beauties 
of the heart. 

At this point we discharged our coachman, and 
taking an omnibus to Shaff*hausen, about two miles 
distant, we there embarked aboard a small steamer, 
it being our purpose to reach Constance by the river 
Khine. Moving out into the middle of the stream, 
we went gliding up the swift current, and making but 
slow progress against its rapid headway. Winding 
quietly along the fair banks of this poetic river, whose 
verdant sides were covered with the vine-clad terrace, 
and whose wondrous beauty w^as rendered all but holy 
by the moldering ruins of the ivy-grown castles, we 
thought of all those wild and entrancing legends, the 



Memories over the Water. Ill 

perusal of which had so often caused us, in our college 
days, to come up with a "bob-tailed nine" to our re- 
citations. Occasionally we would dash under one of 
the low and narrow bridges which span the Rhine 
between Constance and Schaffhausen, and whose 
floors we touched with our hand as we glided under. 
The ruin of Hohenklingen, perched on the summit of 
a lofty hill, is one of the most prominent points on 
the passage up. After shooting the second bridge, the 
passengers were all shipped aboard a larger and bet- 
ter boat, called the "Helvetia," while the little "dug- 
out that had brought us thus far, turned back again. 
During the transfer of the passengers and their bag- 
gage, we were standing quietly on the deck of our 
boat, and noting the various objects presented to our 
view, when we observed a huge, moustached German 
rush forward to greet a fellow-countryman, who like 
himself was bountifully supplied with the upper-lip 
ornament, and throwing his arms affectionately 
around his delicate companion, they kissed — actually 
kissed — each other. The whole affair was to us so 
ludicrous — the surprise so shocking — that we ail-but 
tumbled backward into the water. But at last we 
managed to regain our composure ; yet never to this 
good day have we ceased to wonder at the barbarous 
custom. 



CHAPTER XVI- 



Passengers and baggage being transferred, we 
again moved on np the Ehine. Passed by Itznang, 
the birthplace of Mesmer, the discoverer of animal 
magnetism, and also by the picturesque old castle of 
Gottlieben, with its gray and aged towers. This castle 
is remarkable as having been the prison of John 
Huss, the reformer and martyr, and also of Jerome of 
Prague, his companion and colleague. Passing now 
under an old and dilapidated bridge, we bore around 
to the left, and landed at the wharf of Constance. A 
long stone pier here reaches out into the lake, and 
bending into a wide embrace, serves to break the force 
of the waves, thus rendering a safe harbor to the 
steamers and other small craft, that may come within 
its friendly arms. Here your passports are generally 
called for, and your baggage examined ; both of 
which, however, were kindly dispensed with, in our 
case, by the courteous officers, on learning that w^e 
were a party of Americans. 

Constance is a decayed old city, containing only 
seven thousand two hundred inhabitants, though it 
once possessed the respectable number of forty thous- 
and. Robert Hallam, Bishop of Salisbury, is buried 

(112) 



Memokies oyer the Watek. 113 

here, under a monument of bronze, brought from the 
shores of England. Here the great "Council of Con- 
stance" held its sittings from 1414 to 1418, which im- 
mortalized itself by declaring Church Council superior 
to the will of the Pope, and deposing John 23d, and 
Benedict 13th to elect Martin 5th ; but which, also, 
eternally disgraced itself by the treacherous seizure and 
cruel murder of John Huss and Jerome of Prague. 
Before leaving Constance we took a walk over the city, 
and visited first the cathedral, and then the old council 
chamber, situated hard by the shore of the lake. The 
council hall is now nothing more than a dilapidated 
old room, more like a depository for ancient lumber, 
than aught else. In this chamber we saw the sedan 
in w^hich John Huss was borne to the stake. We 
also went into the museum adjoining, which, for the 
benefit of others, we will say is a decided humbug. 
They have here the eflSgies of Huss, Jerome, and 
a Dominican friar ; all hideous-looking objects. The 
voluble door-keeper will persuade you to purchase 
a small image, which he will tell you is the express 
likeness of the innocent and heroic martyr, and which 
is made of the clay taken from the very identical spot 
on which he was burned, and inclosed in a small box, 
which is also manufactured of the wood growing near ; 
all of which are pretty heavy drafts upon the bank of 
your credulity. 

Our hotel at Constance, the ''Brochet," was an 
elegant establishment, and admirably conducted. Our 
landlord, M. Keppler, was at once an attentive host, 



114 Memoeies over the Water. 

and a courteous, yea, a courtly gentleman, who spoke 
the English language with the ease and the fluency 
of a native. In his handsomely furnished apartments 
we felt more as an invited guest, than tenant by right 
of pay. The position of the hotel was likewise agree- 
able, for, from our window at night, we might look 
forth upon the fair queen of love, rising over the dis- 
tant mountains, a misty vail about her pensive face, 
which was reflected down in the quiet lake, trailing a 
long train of burnished silver through the calm waters 
of Constance. 

The German ladies, as well as the gentlemen, have, 
generally, much better forms, and more pleasant 
features than other European nations. They seem, in 
their dispositions, more social and affectionate ; more 
honest and sincere. They have intelligent, often intel- 
lectual countenances, with fair complexions, blue eyes 
and brown hair. Their soldiers, in their handsome 
uniform, present a fine appearance, and, as a general 
thing, are excellent specimens of manhood. 

About 10 o'clock a. m., we again went aboard the 
Helvetia, and crossed over the lake to Friedrich- 
shafen, situated on its northern shore, about midway 
from end to end. Here we took the rail, and went 
rushing over a beautiful country toward the city of 
Ulm. The intermediate region was thickly dotted 
with villages, and seemed fertile and productive, the 
land being generally level, and lying exceedingly well 
for cultivation. About 4 o'clock p. m., we arrived at 
Ulm, and having first found our hotel, we sallied out 



Memories oyer the Water. 115 

to visit the huge, gothie cathedral of this city. We 
entered its massive doors in the dim shadows of 
twilight, and as we looked upon its lofty arches, 
reposing in the deep silence and "dim religious light" 
of the temple, the imposing spectacle called into play 
a feeling of pensive thought and solemn reverence. 
Ulm contains about twenty-three thousand inhab- 
itants, and is famous as the city, surrendered by 
''Mack the Incapable" to Napoleon, though he was 
posted in a strongly fortified town, and in command 
of thirty thousand men. We cannot say much for the 
soldier, who would thus yield to the terror of a name, 
without striking one blow for his country, his com- 
rades, and his character. Near Ulm we saw and 
crossed the Danube. 

While at Ulm we remember that a very genteel old 
lady came up to our rooms, with an assortment of 
various toys for sale. In our conversation she cas- 
ually learned that we were Americans, and was there- 
upon afi'ected to tears, as she told how she, too, had a 
dear son, far away in Chili of South America, who 
had been expelled from his native land, because he 
was a republican in principle. The good old lady 
had been chatting merrily the while, and a garrulous 
old age seemed making its stealthy advances upon 
her declining years. But so soon as the name of 
America was mentioned, her mirth and merriment 
ceased, a flood of memories, connected with the child- 
hood of the absent son, seemed sweeping across her 
mind, and the tears trickled rapidly down her furrowed 



116 Memories over the Water. 

cheeks. Iler toys were all forgotten, and as the dew 
of her fond sorrow shone in her eyes, now dim with 
age, she told ns, in broken accents, how kind a son he 
was and how" bitter was her sorrow that he should 
be taken away. Though we bought a memento of 
the Bavarian mother, yet no tangible souvenir was 
requisite to keep her kind old face still fresh in our 
memory. 

About 10 o'clock that night we took our seats in 
the diligence, and traveling all night we reached 
Augsburg the next morning about sunrise, and im- 
mediately took the cars for Munich. The country 
through which we passed was a lovely picture ; though 
the land was almost a perfect level, admirably adapted 
for railroads and race-courses. Previous to reaching 
Munich, w^e saw the bold outline of the Tyrol Moun- 
tains, or Ehsetian Alps, rising abruptly out of the 
plains, and covered with perpetual snow. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



Munich is situated on the poetic Iser, immortal in 
English song, and contains 100,000 inhabitants. The 
country around is one vast plain, over which roam 
and feed large herds of cattle. No fence nor cottage 
breaks the monotony of the continued level, and at 
each nightfall it seems that the countrymen all gather 
themselves within the friendly walls of the city. 

Soon after our arrival, a carriage and " commis- 
sionaire " were ordered, and we went forth from our 
hotel, to see whatever sights the city afforded. We 
drove first to the " Pinacotheque," and on our way 
we saw the cottage-residence of the noted Lola Mon- 
tez, from which she was expelled by an infuriated 
mob of students. The Pinacotheque is a magnificent 
gallery of paintings, whose walls are hung with the 
choicest productions in the Bavarian kingdom. They 
are ranged, according to the different schools, in nine 
beautiful halls and twenty-three small cabinets, and 
were, at the time of our visit, 1270 in number. In 
the grand hall, we accidentally encountered a very 
courteous and accomplished English gentleman, who, 
as an exception to the general character of his 
countrymen, was socially inclined, and being well 



118 Memories over the Water. 

acquainted with the arrangement of the galleries, he 
kindly volunteered to point out the most celebrated 
works in the vast collection. Passing by the more 
eminent productions, w^e will only advert to a few, 
w^hose merits especially commended themselves to our 
own untaught appreciation. Particularly were we 
pleased with the benevolent expression that rested 
upon the face of an old man. His features were 
represented to the very life, and seemed to stand out 
bona fide flesh and bone — each separate wrinkle dis- 
tinctly marked, and each gray hair so perfectly 
natural, it seemed as though you might lift that thin, 
white lock from ofi* the furrowed forehead. We also 
observed a most exquisite painting of the infant 
Savior, holding a bouquet of flowers, freshly gathered, 
in his hand. How^ softly gentle — how serenely wise 
— how more than human was the expression of that 
sweet face ; how true to nature, and how true to art — 
how childlike and how graceful, was his winning atti- 
tude. Those two paintings linger yet lovingly upon 
our memory — rest yet calmly and sweetly upon our 
heart. So potent and so sacred was the influence of 
their mysterious power, that they might serve as a 
guardian amulet to our thoughts, a protecting talisman 
against the Tempter. 

The porter of the Pinacotheque was a huge, 
lantern-jawed, big-fisted, raw-boned, slab-sided Por- 
phyrion, by the side of wdiom our portly Bishop 
dwindled down into corporeal insignificance. He was 
the first and last object that greeted our attention, as 



Memories over the Water. 119 

he stood, a silent and stolid sentinel, at the door of 
the Pinacotheque. 

We now drove to the Basilica of St. Boniface, whose 
interior is of the richest and most gorgeous character, 
abounding, too, in ornaments of the chastest beauty, 
and the purest elegance. The floor is entirely laid 
with costly mosaic, and the roof is supported by sixty- 
six handsome marble pillars. Along the walls are 
ranged ten large and twelve smaller frescoes, repre- 
senting the principal events in the history of the 
patron saint. The exterior of the building is 
nothing remarkable, either in architecture or embel- 
lishment. 

We next found our way to the bronze, colossal 
statue, representing the Genius of Bavaria. Such are 
the proportions of this splendid image, that a man may 
stand upright in the cavity of its head. At the feet 
of this Guardian Genius, reclines a gigantic lion ; 
in her left arm she holds the wreath of victory, and 
on her right arm reposes the sword of justice. At 
the time of our visit, workmen were engaged in 
erecting a semi-circular temple just in the rear of 
the statue. 

We now went to the telescope and eye-glass estab- 
lishment of the celebrated Frauenhoffen (brothers). 
Thence we rode to the Church of St. Michael, where 
we saw the monument erected to the memory of Eu- 
gene Beauharnais, step-son of Napoleon, by his wife. 
Thence to the huge old cathedral — a massive and 
towering pile of red brick. Here we saw a splendid 



120 Memokies over the Water. 

bronze monument to the Emperor Louis the Barerian. 
At each corner of the sarcophagus kneels an armed 
knight, clad "cap-a-pie" in burnished armor, and 
bearing in their left hands the pennon of their lord. 
On either side stand two Barerian dukes in mournful 
attitude. The monument is all of the finest bronze, 
and beautifully wrought. 

We next made our w^ay to the royal Palace, or, as 
it is there called, the " Eesidenz." After waiting a 
short while in the vestibule, we were finally ap- 
proached by a conductor, who supplied the company 
with large, soft slippers of cloth, to go over our 
shoes, and thus prevent injury to furniture and floor 
during our ramble through the various apartments. 
Before commencing our march, w^e bought a small 
guide-book of the Palace, from a pretty Bavarian 
girl, whose own fair face, rather than the intrinsic 
service of the book, was the motive of the pur- 
chase. 

We were now first ushered, through several ante- 
chambers, into the Ballroom, a spacious and a fitting 
place to trip the merry dance, when beauty and when 
royalty are gathered there. Above is the gallery for 
the musicians, and on the walls are groups of dancers 
in fresco. Next we entered the Hall of Beauty, 
so called because containing the portraits of the most 
celebrated beauties of the present day. They are 
all from the brush of Stieler, and are exquisitely 
executed. We were ever susceptive to the enchant- 
ment of the fair — ever submissive to the magic of 



Memoeies over the Water. 121 

their wand. Upon the pathway of our life, the 
smile of beauty breaks like the " Will o' the wisp," 
and we blindly follow in the wildering lure of the 
spirit-light. No marvel, then, that as our eye rested 
fondly on those beauteous brows, our heart should 
softly yield to the pulsation of love; for, unrebuked, 
we looked upon the deep, the love-beaming eye of 
blue ; and the free fancy reveled in the dark depths 
of the passionate orb of jet. There was the fairy 
blonde and the bonny brunette — ringlets of the sun- 
set hue, carelessly straying over ivory shoulders, and 
dark masses of wavy hair, closely braided from the 
polished brow. There were carnation lips, whose 
sweet pouting seemed like two blushing strawberries, 
just kissed by the morning dew, and there was 
again the closely-chiseled mouth, bespeaking a heart 
which might love, and yet a will that might dare. 
There was the proud daughter of the monarch, and 
the peerless child of the peasant, the belle of the 
ball and the pride of the stage, the court beauty and 
the cloister-nun. In fine, no one, whatever phase of 
loveliness may be his choice, may pass through that 
magic chamber, unchallenged by the mute appeal of 
those fair faces. The dormant fires of age itself 
shall wake at least to a fitful life, and the heart 
of the most devoted anchorite thrill once more, 
beneath the unseen touch of Beauty's hand. He 
who puts foot within that enchanted room, comes out, 
for a time at least, in love. Among the portraits 

10 



122 Memories over the Water. 

that there look lovingly down upon the visitor, we 
saw that of Lola Montez, who even now, in the land 
of the West, leads captive the popular mind. 

From the Hall of Beauty, we passed into the Hall 
of Victory, containing several immense paintings, 
representing the various battle-scenes, in which the 
Bavarian army was engaged, from 1805 to 1815. 
Thence w^e entered the Hall of Charlemagne, where 
are twenty superb paintings, portraying various 
scenes in the eventful career of that triumphant 
emperor. Thence to the Hall of Barbarossa, adorned 
with one dozen elegant pictures. Thence to the 
Hapsburg Hall, used by their majesties the King 
and Queen, on state occasions ; and, finally, to the 
Throne Room — a most magnificent apartment — orna- 
mented by twelve colossal statues of various kings 
and emperors, mounted on pedestals, and placed at 
corresponding intervals on each side of the room. 
They are all of bronze, but washed with the richest 
gilt, which gives them the appearance of golden sta- 
tues. With this room our trampling was concluded, 
Tvhen, weary and wolfish^ we sought our hotel, and 
sat down to a sumptuous dinner. 

We had now seen many handsome cities, since 
we set sail from the land of the West, but none 
had we visited, whose appearance was as pleasing as 
the fair city of Munich. It is, throughout, remark- 
ably clean, airy, and open, with broad avenues and 
spacious streets. Each house seems to have "elbow 



Memories over the Water. 123 

room," and the beauty of the buildings generally is 
much enhanced by their white stuccoed fronts, giving 
a delightful air of cleanliness to the place. The 
Munich gentleman we found the pink of politeness, 
who doffs his hat to the high and the low, and 
almost beats the Parisian himself in punctilio. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



"Well ! we left the fair city of Munich at six o'clock 
on the morning of the 19th of September, and after a 
weary railway ride we arrived at the city of Hof soon 
after dark. We observed as we passed out from 
Munich, that great quantities of peat were taken up 
from the turf in its neighborhood. On the plains 
near Augsburg we saw the Bavarian troops on parade. 
Passed by many populous cities in our rapid flight, 
whose names and number of inhabitants were given 
us by a very courteous gentleman, whom we had as a 
traveling companion, and who, though a German, 
spoke the English language perfectly well. He en- 
lightened us on many points concerning the present 
condition of the German Confederacy, and spoke most 
disparagingly of its political organization, of its 
chaotic and unintelligible rule, of its degeneracy and 
its oppression, and evidently showing, from many sen- 
timents which escaped his lips, his utter disgust at his 
own government, and that he, like many of his coun- 
trymen, would be a republican if he dared. 

On the following morning while making the best 
of a bad breakfast, preparatory to an early start from 
Hof, we were much amused at the manipulating 

( 124 ) 



Memories oyer the Water. 125 

method, adopted by our worthy Bishop, of inducing 
a certain German to dispense with his cigar. Now 
the Germans are the most inveterate smokers in the 
world, and deem it no infringement of good-breeding 
and etiquette to smoke in the presence of ladies. This 
we knew, and consequently could never insist that 
one of these phlegmatic sons of humanity should 
throw away his cigar, when by chance we might be 
thrown in contact during the hours of travel. But on 
this occasion the ladies of our party were at breakfast, 
and this devotee of tobacco was standing near the 
fire puffing away with the most provoking noncha- 
lance. The disagreeable odor was submitted to for a 
considerable time; but finally the fumes of the noxious 
weed grew intolerable, and called for some redi^ess. 
Quietly rising from the table our Herculean Bishop 
strode heavily across the room, and without deigning 
one word of German, French or English, he looked 
the ofiending smoker full in the face, and placing his 
two fingers upon his lips deliberately motioned to 
him to throv\^ away the cigar — at the same time 
pointing, as some apology, to the ladies at the table, 
thereby intimating that his smoking was to them 
ofiensive. The stupefied German stood astounded 
and mute, staring with eyes wide open into the 
American's face, until the significant intimation was 
again slowly and deliberately repeated. Slyly scan- 
ning the stalwart frame and formidable look of him, 
who had so suddenh^ stalked before him with his 
silent admonition, the fellow now slowly drew the 



126 Memories oyer the Water. 

cigar from his mouth, but would not throw it away, 
reserving the luxury for some other and more pro- 
pitious occasion. This, however, was a satisfactory 
compromise, and the Bishop again returned to his 
seat as silently as he had left it. During the entire 
transaction not one word was spoken on either side, 
giving the whole afiair an air of the most comic 
gravity. 

At six o'clock, A. M., we were speeding away 
toward the Prussian capital. In about four hours 
after we had reached the handsome city of Leipzic, 
and there awaited the train, which was to leave for 
Berlin at three o'clock in the afternoon. The day 
was damp, dark and dreary, while a dull and drizzling 
rain lent to the face of nature a somber and gloomy 
aspect. Leipzic is not without its share in the lights 
and shadows of historic romance ; for here the brave 
but unfortunate Poniatowsky was first wounded and 
then drowned, when Napoleon, flying before the 
combined forces of the allied army, blew up the bridge 
over the Elster, in order to intercept the pursuit of 
his enemies, but thereby dooming a portion of his 
own devoted comrades to inevitable destruction. The 
gallant steed, though faint and bleeding, bore his 
dauntless rider into the turbid stream, and fearlessly 
breasting the angry waves reached the opposite side. 
But here the weary charger, breathless and exhausted, 
while still struggling up the slippery bank, fell back- 
ward again, and the waters of the dusky Elster closed 
over the soul of chivalry, the very emblem of honor 



Memories oyer the Water. 127 

and fidelity. The sheen on that warrior's lance was 
lost, the glitter of his blade was gone, as weak and 
battle-worn both horse and rider sank beneath the 
blood-stained wave. 

But the appointed hour came round, and again we 
were on the move, scouring across the level plains of 
Leipzic, on which history affirms the camp-fires of the 
allied troops were nightly seen to glimmer for thirty 
miles in the distance, as they gradually concentrated 
to crush the dreaded foe, that like lion in his lair lay 
waiting for their coming. Nearer and more near the 
gay and glittering troops, their bright banners fiouting 
in the morning wind and furled again at nightfall, 
came verging to a center. Their bristling ranks now 
encircled the walled city like a band of living steel, 
when bursting, like the avenging thunderbolt from 
the red right-hand of heaven, came the invincible 
Napoleon, breaking like flaxen threads their serried 
columns and hurling death and destruction on that 
myriad host. 

The country still mainly preserved its uniform level, 
varied principally by several splendid bridges, built 
upon a succession of arches, and of awful height. 
The depth to the river below seemed immense, as 
our snake-like train wound slowly over the tremen- 
dous structures — noble specimens of architecture and 
workmanship. The little dormer-windows, built in 
the precise shape of an eye, and peeping out from the 
roof of the village cottage, attracted our particular 
attention. No fence nor rural hamlet here dots the 



128 Memories over the Water. 

surface of this land of military rule. The people 
cluster in walled towns, protected by turret and 
tower, whence they hie to their labor at early dawn, 
to mow their hay and reap their grain. At half past 
nine o'clock, p. m., we rolled into the station-house 
at Berlin, and were soon amid a promiscuous crowd 
of porters, soldiers, cab -drivers and travelers. Taking 
a "droskie" we rattled away, over well-paved and 
handsomely-lighted streets, to the '' Hotel de Eussie." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Our hotel in Berlin was located in the finest por- 
tion of the city, having for its immediate neighbors 
the Koyal Palace, the Museum, the Arsenal, the 
Opera House, and the University — all superb build- 
ings, and many of them adorned with statues of 
marble and of bronze. The Museum especially com- 
mended itself to our admiration by the immense and 
beautiful frescoes which grace the front of this hand- 
some edifice. They represent the gradual develop- 
ment of the human intellect and the progressive 
formation of the universe. The conception of the 
artist was no less lofty than the execution was ele- 
gant. A mammoth basin of beautiful granite stands 
just at the fiight of stone steps, which lead up into 
the vestibule, while on the right is the celebrated 
group in bronze, representing the combat between a 
mounted Amazon and an enraged tigress. 

On the Monday following a carriage and " valet de 
place" were engaged, and in company with the ladies 
of our party we started out on a search for the sights 
of Berlin. We first drove out to the low sandhill, 
called the Kreutzberg, on whose summit is erected an 
iron monument, commemorating the victories gained 

II ( 129 ) 



130 Memories oveb the Water. 

by the Prussians over the French. The entrance of 
the inclosure is kept by an old soldier with only one 
leg ; the other, he will tell you, was carried away by a 
cannon ball on the field of Waterloo. Next we drove 
down the "Eue Belle-Vue," on which are situated 
some of the most beautiful private residences of the 
city. We stopped on the border of the '' Thier Gar- 
ten," and got out to see the fine marble statue of 
Frederick William Third, dressed in the plain garb 
of a private citizen. Thence we drove out to Char- 
lottenberg, a small village about three miles distant 
from Berlin, where the palace, denominated the 
Schloss, is situated, but which, as we know, is not 
worth the trouble of entering. The chief object of 
attraction about this village is the Mausoleum of 
Louisa, Queen of Prussia. We found it an exqui- 
sitely beautiful Doric temple, resting in a quiet and 
secluded spot, just at the termination of a long 
avenue of trees, and built entirely of pure granite of 
the finest polish. It contains the sarcophagi of the 
ill-fated Louisa and the late King. The face and 
form of the unfortunate princess are strikingly beauti- 
ful, and are said to be a correct likeness. She is 
represented in the attitude of death, reclining above 
the marble tomb, with hands meekly folded over her 
gentle bosom, while a simple and tranquil air of 
sweet repose lingers upon her lovely features, which 
is very touching. The body is attired in a plain 
dress of drapery, which falls in graceful folds about 
her fair form. Several withered garlands are to be 



Memories over the Water. 131 

seen upon the walls, which are said to be the first 
offerings of the children at the grave of their mother. 
The body of the King is also a fine specimen of 
sculpture, as he reposes by the side of the Queen, 
with his "martial cloak around him." The effect 
upon the pure white marble is heightened by the 
light streaming down from above, through the stained 
glass, with a pallid, death-like hue. 

Berlin is a very handsome, well-built city. The 
houses are generally low, and the streets perfectly 
level. The principal thoroughfare is the '^Unter-den 
Linden," which serves the purpose of both park and 
street. Near the head of this avenue is a superb 
monument in brass, with a colossal equestrian statue 
of Frederick the Great, surmounting the handsome 
pedestal, which is wrought with elaboration and 
exceeding skill. 

Our next visit was to the Eoyal Palace, of which 
we made only a rapid and cursory inspection. Our 
''castellan" we found a jovial fellow, whose facetious 
remarks enlivened our tramp through the entensive 
suite of royal apartments. The "White Hall" is a 
beautiful room, which had lately been fitted up, as we 
are told, at the cost of eight hundred thousand dol- 
lars. The picture-gallery is very fine. We saw there 
the original of "Napoleon crossing the Alps," by 
David. Saw Bonaparte's bedroom, occupied by him 
during his temporary residence in Berlin ; and in his 
chamber were shown a clock which requires winding 
up only once a year. The apartments are enriched 



132 Memories over the Water. 

by many beautiful and curious pieces of furniture. 
The floors are elaborately tassellated, their centers 
being frequently inlaid with ivory. 

Eeturning to our hotel, we started, by droskie, for 
the railway station, and took the eleven o'clock train 
for Potsdam, which is called the Prussian Versailles, 
and about twenty miles distant from Berlin. The 
country traversed was, as usual, level, devoid of either 
beauty of scenery or fertility of soil. In about one 
hour we reached the city, containing about thirty 
thousand inhabitants. The principal object of our 
visit to Potsdam was to see Baron Alexander Von 
Humboldt, the illustrious philosopher and traveler, 
our Minister at Berlin, Mr. Barnard having kindly 
furnished us with a letter of introduction. We found 
the author of Kosmos posted in very plain apartments 
in the '* Old Palace," and who received us with the 
greatest kindness and cordiality. The old gentleman 
w^as modestly attired, with a large white cravat about 
his neck, the only part of his dress at all calculated 
to attract attention. He took each one of us by the 
hand as we entered, invited us to be seated, and 
began at once a very animated conversation, referring 
chiefly to the rising race of American astronomers 
and philosophers, our Cuban difiiculties, and our late 
war with Mexico. He spoke very highly of Tennes- 
see's gifted son, Lieutenant Maury, of the United 
States' navy, and complimented our country as a 
nation of enterprise and intelligence. But he thought 
our war with Mexico unjust, and the spirit of our 



Memories oyer the Water. 133 

people more rapacious than it should be. There was 
something extremely agreeable about his amiable 
countenance, despite the rather severe but at the 
same time complimentary criticism on America; 
though we thought the renowned traveler was evi- 
dently falling into the loquacity commonly incident to 
old age. Bishop Otey requested the honor of his 
autograph, which he very readily granted. It ran 
thus — "Baron Yon Humboldt, 82 years old," and was 
written in a bold and steady hand for so old a man. 
We parted, much pleased with this author of world- 
wide fame — this grave philosopher and gentle old 
man — whom the nations of the earth admire and 
praise, and whom everybody loves and venerates. 

We now drove to the gardens of Charlottenhof, 
where there is a villa of the present King, built in 
the same style with the houses of Pompeii. The 
grounds are beautifully laid out, and abound with 
every variety of shrub and flower. Next we went to 
the gardens and Palace of " Sans Souci," lavishly 
ornamented with marble statues, fountains, obelisks, 
etc. The Palace is situated on the summit of a flight 
of terraces, to which we sought admission ; but as 
the King was hourly expected we were not permitted 
to enter. Saw the spot where the favorite dogs and 
war-steed of the eccentric Emperor Frederick the 
Great were buried ; and also had the famous wind- 
mill of historic note pointed out. On our return to 
the railway station we just missed a sight of the 



134 Memories over the Water. 

King, who had been out to a review of twenty thou- 
sand of his troops. We saw, however, his youngest 
brother and staff, mounted on horses. The Prince 
was dressed in a neat-fitting uniform of blue, and sat 
on his horse with much grace. We met also a large 
detachment of cavalry returning from the field, and 
returned to Berlin in the same train with the Com- 
mander-in-chief of the Prussian army. 



CHAPTER XX. 



On the night of the 23d of September, we went to 
the opera with the expectation of seeing the King and 
Queen of Prussia, having understood that it was the 
intention of their majesties to be there on that occasion. 
In this, however, we were disappointed. The Opera 
House at Berlin is an exceedingly handsome edifice, 
surpassing, in point of convenience and beauty, any- 
thing of the kind that we had, as yet, seen. The 
orchestra was very numerous, and composed of the 
first talent in the country. The audience was, by far, 
the most brilliant we had ever seen, being thickly 
interspersed with the rich uniforms of the officers of 
rank in the Prussian army. 

On the following morning we went to the City 
Hospital, in order to see the method of instructing 
the Cretins. But the school-hours having been con- 
cluded we did not care to be admitted, especially as 
the privilege seemed to be reluctantly granted. This 
establishment is here carried out on a very extensive 
scale, and with thorough treatment. The building is 
a large and handsome structure. While we were at 
the main entrance they brought one of those unfor- 
tunate creatures to become an inmate, who was moan- 

( 135 ) 



136 Memories over the Water. 

ing and gibbering in his idiotic suffering ; his mind 
a perfect blank, devoid of life, of light, of reason, 
or of hope. 

We now visited the cabinet of curiosities in the 
Royal Palace, where you are shown relics innumer- 
able of Frederick the Great ; some of which are of 
rather a disgusting nature ; for such is the devotion 
of the Prussian people to the memory of their warrior- 
king, that they have preserved, as sacred State treas- 
ures, the garments that he wore, and the handkerchief 
that he used, during his last illness. The Bishop 
struck up a few notes on the flute, the same which 
his highness was wont to play, beguiling with music's 
holy flow the cares that line the royal brow. As we 
were not much of an advocate for man- worship, we 
did not linger here long. 

On our return toward the hotel, lo ! the royal car- 
riage came rattling, at a rapid rate, down the ''Unter- 
den-Linden," drawn by four spanking blacks. The 
top was thrown back, and seated there were four gen- 
tlemen — among them the King, conspicuous by a 
tall bonnet, with a red badge dangling from its top. 
We turned back to the museum, and had a fair view 
of his majesty, as he alighted from the carriage. He 
was dressed in a handsome military suit, and seemed 
to us quite a dignified, good-looking gentleman ; his 
manner appearing plain and unassuming before the 
eyes of his people. His equipage was by no means 
gaudy, but neat and elegant. He looked to be a 
man of about forty years of age, but the locks of gi'ay 



Memories over the Water. 137 

that shone in his dark hair seemed to speak of early 
dissipation. The Prince of Bavaria was with the 
Kins:, havino^ come from his own realms on a visit to 
his royal friend. As we again turned homeward we 
encountered the carriage of the Queen, drawn by six 
grays, and preceded by two outriders, mounted on 
horses likewise gray. We were favored with a fair 
view of the Queen, and also of the Princess of 
Bavaria, w^ho sat by her side. 

At Berlin our traveling party was broken up. On 
the morning of the 26th, Bishop Otey, Mrs. Eakin, 
Miss Boss, with little Willie, left Berlin in the six 
o'clock A. M. train, bound direct for Paris. At seven 
o'clock A. M. , of the same day, Fogg and ourself took 
the cars and started Southward toward the Saxon 
capital. The journey was made, for the most part, 
over a flat and uninteresting country, with nothing to 
break its dead monotony, save the venerable old 
windmills, with their long arms whirling in the air. 
To add to the discomforts of the day, a cold and 
driving shower commenced falling, compelling us to 
shut down the windows of the car, and thereby sub- 
jecting ourselves to the suffocating fumes of the Ger- 
man smokers, who plied their numberless cigars and 
incessant jargon, enough to craze any man of ordi- 
nary powers of endurance. But on leaving Eiesa, 
about twenty miles from Dresden, the w^hole aspect 
of nature changed. The heavens became clear and 
cloudless, the sun shone cheerily down, and instead 
of the bleak waste of barren plain, the eye now 



138 Memories over the Water. 

brightened over a lovely landscape, pleasantly diver- 
sified by neat villages, vine-clad-hills and white 
chateaus. On our left the sails of the river-craft 
were glittering in the rays of the sun, as they moved 
lazily over the bosom of the muddy Elbe, down 
whose valley we were speeding. But away we dash, 
the hoofs of our iron steed ringing on the rail, and 
soon the four tall spires of Dresden town are seen 
pointing high into the blue concave of heaven. At 
half-past twelve we were deposited at the station, and 
thence we drove immediately to the "Hotel de 
France," crossing over the Elbe into Dresden proper, 
by a fine, substantial bridge. Dined at one o'clock, 
and immediately after visited the celebrated gallery of 
paintings, ranking above the collections of both Berlin 
and Munich, inasmuch as these apartments contain 
many rare productions of "the old masters," with 
other works of " vertu." Within a series of outward 
rooms there is also an interior gallery, containing a 
rare and costly collection. Having at last concluded 
our survey we next strolled over the town. The 
streets we found narrow and dirty, and the houses 
high and dingy, like the smoky buildings of London. 
In our peregrination we ascended the "Terrace," 
overhanging the river Elbe, and found it to be a 
favorite evening resort for the citizens of both sexes. 
Entered a beautiful little temple overlooking the river, 
which combined, within itself, both coffee-house and 
concert room. Here the citizen, whose leisure may 
admit, may sit and sip his coffee, and at the same 



Memories oyer the Water. 139 

time list to the strains of music. Nurses, with bevies 
of flaxen-haired children, ramble about under the 
thick shade of the trees without, and all is one ani- 
mated scene of happiness and content. 

Next we went to the theater, a very handsome 
stone building of circular form, situated just on the 
right as you cross the stone bridge into Dresden. 
We entered the parterre of this fashionable temple of 
Thespis, and found the audience full, and fair looking 
in the main. But the performance was in German, 
and so not comprehending the wit of the comedy, (at 
which, however, those about us seemed provokingly 
pleased,) we were quite rejoiced when the unintel- 
ligible jargon was concluded, and the curtain fell. 
We now sought our hotel through the busy unknown 
streets, and thus closed our first day in the capital of 
Saxony. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



While in Dresden we desired very much to see 
the famous ''Green Vault," where the State jewels 
are kept, but the limited number of tickets having 
been already issued for that day, we could not gain 
admission. We visited however the fine establish- 
ment of porcelain -ware, and then crossing over the 
bridge we strolled over the greater portion of Dres- 
den lying beyond the river. Returning to the hotel, 
we paid up our bills, changed our loose money from 
the Prussian to the Austrian currency, (making a 
considerable profit by the discount of the latter,) took 
a cab, and started again for the railway depot. At 
a quarter past one o'clock, p. m., we were on our way 
to Prague. The scenery was exceedingly beautiful, 
as we skirted along the right bank of the river Elbe, 
whose winding course we followed for many hours. 
As we dashed on the delighted eye danced merrily 
over the high conical rocks, craggy blufis, and white- 
walled towns of this ''Saxon Switzerland." Occa- 
sionally a lonely cross, or moldering tower, perched 
high up on the dreamy old hills, would come and 
vanish before our gaze, as we sped along the deep 
and narrow valley. About dusk we reached a small 

( 140 ) 



Memories over the Water. 141 

village, whose name we do not remember, but where 
the valley suddenly spreads out into a broad and 
level basin. Here the lamps in our cars were lighted 
to dispel the darkness of night, which was drawing 
rapidly on. 

On our way down from Dresden to Prague we 
struck up an acquaintance with a young officer of 
the Austrian Army, who, having resided for several 
years in England, was perfectly conversant with the 
language of that country, and having discovered that 
we were from the distant shores of America, he 
seemed disposed to make some use of his accom- 
plishment. We accordingly entered into conversa- 
tion, by w^hich we casually learned that he had been 
engaged in the Hungarian struggle, which led us to 
make some inquiries relative to the war. We found 
him, however, not at all wilKng to speak on the sub- 
ject, inasmuch as the government regarded all those 
found conversing thereon among the suspicious and 
the disaffected. He advised us moreover, so long as 
we were in the Austrian dominions, neither to speak 
of Hungary, nor even to mention the name of Kos- 
suth or of any other Hungarian refugee ; for that we 
would thereby excite the distrust of the national 
police, and probably subject ourselves to imprison- 
ment. He denounced Kossuth as more an agitator 
than a patriot — more an orator than a soldier. He 
was very minute in his inquiries relative to slavery 
in America, and could not understand how we, pro- 
fessing so much sympathy for the nations of Europe, 



142 Memories over the Water. 

who were struggling for their freedom, should yet 
hold millions in absolute subjection in our own land. 
Neither could we convince him that it was more a 
case of necessity than of option. But we found that, 
in Austria, to canvass the acts of government was 
among the number of unpardonable sins, and all that 
the subject is required to do is — to be mum and obey. 
Liberty of speech seemed especially prohibited, and 
it was most strange to us that where such restrictions 
were imposed, the citizens should remain so quiet 
and apparently content. 

We reached Prague about twenty minutes past 
nine, and after passport and baggage were examined, 
we took a carriage for the ''Blue Star." No rooms 
were vacant, and so we drove to the "Golden Angel," 
who sheltered us beneath its wings for the night. 
But on the following morning we became satisfied 
that we were not possessed of such angelio accommo- 
dations as we had been led to expect, and so calling 
up the "garcon," we had accounts forthwith squared; 
and again marched over to the "Blue Star," which 
we now found more propitious than on the past even- 
ing. Breakfast over, we next repaired to the "Hotel 
D'Angleterre," where we found several gentlemen, 
whose acquaintance we had previously formed by 
contact in our line of travel — among the number 
were Col. Wm. Hart, Kentucky, and Lieutenants 
Boudinot, Bent and Gwathmey, of the U. S. Navy. 
With them we started out on an indefinite stroll over 
the city. First we took up the handsome street, 



Memories ovee. the Water. 143 

whereon the ''Blue Star^' is situated, and after pro- 
ceeding several hundred yards, we turned up to the 
left, following a very broad and handsome thorough- 
fare, whereon we found several fountains and statues 
ornanaenting its center. This street is abruptly ter- 
minated by the fortifications of the city. Mounting 
on the high walls we bore off to the right, making a 
semicircle to the banks of the rapid Moldau, which 
divides in twain the old city of Prague. Keeping 
down the river we erelong came to the monument of 
the late Emperor Francis. This bronze equestrian 
statue stands within a beautiful gothic tower, and 
encircling the base of the pedestal are various alle- 
gorical figures, representing the diflTerent callings of 
the Bohemian people. Turning back a few paces we 
crossed over the Moldau, which is here a broad and 
shallow stream. The suspension bridge is a long 
and substantial structure, being supported in the 
center by a stone pillar, resting on a small island in 
the middle of the stream. In the meanwhile, how- 
ever, we had lost sight of Boudinot and Gwathmey, 
and so the remainder of our party, numbering four, 
engaged a carriage and ascended to the "Hradschin" 
— the place of the old Bohemian Kings. On the 
ascent our attention was drawn to many queer old 
buildings, with gigantic statues standing on each 
side of the doorway, and represented as supporting 
the massive masonry on their bare and brawny 
shoulders. A heavy frown generally lowers upon 
their brows, as though a sullen and angry feeling 



144 Memories over the Water. 

possessed their hearts, that they should be compelled 
perpetually to bear so weighty a burden. Eeaching 
the "Hradshin " we were first shown into the room, 
where the Bohemian emperors were crowned. It is 
a handsome apartment only, with none of that splen- 
dor which is seen in the palaces of Paris, Munich, 
Berlin, etc. Next we entered ''the green room," 
and saw the window through which the two unpop- 
ular nobles Slawata and Martinitz, with their Secre- 
tary, Fabricius, were ejected after the "Bohemian 
style." One of these, it is said, on falling upon the 
head of a peasant passing by, got up and politely 
begged pardon for his unceremonious descent. From 
this same old window we looked out upon one of the 
finest views we ever beheld. The white-walled city 
of Prague, containing one hundred and twenty thou- 
sand souls, lay snugly at rest in a circular valley, 
with the sleepy old hills rising gradually up on every 
side, and stretching their sunny summits far away 
in the distance. Receding on either side of the 
river bank rose, tier, by tier, the handsome white 
buildings, all reposing in pensive slumbers — all 
bathed in golden sunshine — all blushing in autum- 
nal beauty. 

We now turned to visit the old Cathedral, rich in 
gothic ornament, and moss-grown and dim with age. 
We looked with reverence on turret and spire of 
that venerable old pile, and thought how great the 
sacrilege that the Emperor Frederick should have 
made that ancient church the target for his artillery. 



Memories oyer the Water. 145 

The interior of the building still retains something 
of its former beauty and magnificence. In the body 
of the church stands the Imperial Mausoleum, erected 
by Rudolf the 2d, as the receptacle for his own 
body after death. The Shrine of St. John Nepomuk 
displays an immense profusion of silver, and is con- 
sidered one of the richest in the world. The ever- 
burning lamps hang above the coffin of the saint, 
which is represented as borne aloft by four winged 
angels, the size of life and of unadulterated silver. 
Among the relics contained in this church are said 
to be — ^"portions of the bones of Abraham, Isaac and 
Jacob ; the pocket-handkerchief of the Virgin Mary ; 
a piece of the true cross, inclosing a bit of the sponge, 
which was placed on a hyssop ; two thorns of the 
crown of thorns ; one of the palm branches that were 
strewed in our Saviour's way, with an immense 
number of similar curiosities, equally authentic and 
valuable." 
12 



CHAPTER XXII, 



On our descent from the " Hradshin" we crossed 
oyer the Moldau by the massive old stone bridge, 
which measures one thousand seven hundred and 
ninety feet in length, and is ornamented on either 
side with twenty-eight statues of various saints. 
Many of these figures, however, have been disman- 
tled — some of the uplifted arm, some of the reverend 
head, and some otherwise disfigured by "the accident 
of flood and field." 

Having dined at the " Blue Star," we next visited 
the Jewish synagogue and cemetery, which we found 
situated in a different part of the city, thickly crowded 
with houses, and densely populated with the dark- 
eyed sons of Judah. Their place of worship was 
built under-ground, and service was being performed 
when we arrived. As we descended into this gloomy, 
dungeon-like synagogue, we intuitively pulled oflf our 
hat, but immediately replaced it at the request of one 
of the congregation, all of whom, we observed, had 
their heads covered. The venerable old priest was 
engaged in the performance of the ancient rites of the 
Hebrew worship ; and as we gazed around on those 

dark and swarthy faces, in the dim light of the dust- 
n46) 



Memories oyer the Water. 147 

covered room, we could but feel a compassionate 
regard for that unhappy race, who thus clung to the 
wayward faith of their fathers, denying the Saviour 
of the world, and still anticipating the advent of their 
Messiah. As we advanced toward the altar, the 
congregation, observing that we were strangers, would 
politely give way, that we might draw as near as we 
wished. Through a few narrow, loophole windows, 
we looked into an adjoining apartment, and there saw 
the female audience assembled, no woman being 
allowed the privilege of the sanctuary. We looked 
with great interest on the worship of these children 
of Israel, and only left when hurried away by our 
companions to visit the burying-grounds above. 
This ancient resting-place of the Jewish dead presents 
a most lonely and singular appearance, with its gray 
old tombstones falling to decay, and thickly over- 
grown with a dense underwood of the gnarled and 
twisted elders. As we left this curious city of the 
dead, the dark shadows of night were gathering about 
the desolate graves, and the melancholy cricket was 
chirping his evening song beneath the matted grass. 

On the following morning we were aroused accord- 
ing to order, about four o'clock, and having dressed, 
taken a cup of coffee, paid up our bills, and bade 
adieu to our accomplished landlord, we started off 
a-foot, with ''garcon" bearing our luggage in the van, 
leading the way toward the railway station. Bag- 
gage deposited, tickets secured, and " boots" having 
received his farewell bonus, for which he wished us 



148 Memoeies oyer the Water. 

the usual "bon voyage," we were soon moving 
toward the Austrian capital. The entire route was 
one of charming beauty and varied interest. Now 
we were dashing along by gently rolling meadows, in 
their mantle of waning green ; now winding along 
the tortuous course of some brawling mountain 
stream ; and now shooting through a succession of 
dark tunnels, hewn out of the living rock. About 
four o'clock, p. M., we reached the city of Brunn, not 
far from which was fought the battle of Austerlitz. 
Here we changed our indifferent cars and slow- 
moving train for most excellent carriages and winged 
engine, and went rushing on toward the city of 
Yienna. Out on our left arose the dark and wooded 
heights of the Carpathian mountains, while on our 
right slowly sank the setting sun, shedding its light 
and mellow rays o'er the auburn hills, the deep-blue 
mountains, and numerous tidy, white-walled towns. 
In our route we passed through a portion of Hungary, 
whose late struggle against the Austrian <iynasty 
created such a sympathetic commotion in the hearts 
of our own countrymen. When a few miles from 
Vienna, we crossed over the Danube, and soon after 
entered the Paris of Austria, containing a population 
of four hundred thousand ; the same number as the 
capital of Prussia. From current accounts, we had 
anticipated here a very rigorous examination of pass- 
port and baggage, and had prepared ourself quietly 
to submit to whatever annoyance the city police 
might impose. We were, however, agreeably sux'- 



Memories oyer the Water. 149 

prised to find the officers extremely courteous, and by 
no means so suspicious of our purposes as we had 
been led to suppose. Only a cursory glance was 
given to our accouterments, and we were suffered to 
proceed. Getting into a cab, we sung out — "Hotel 
Munsch ;" when our driver sprang to his seat, gave 
his good steed the word, dashed away through the 
devious streets, and soon drew rein in the courtyard 
of the hotel designated. And thus were a couple of 
"modern travelers" safely deposited in the city of 
Vienna — having, in the course of one month, trav- 
ersed thousands of miles, and looked on more than it 
usually falls to the lot of man to see in a lifetime — 
nor yet undergone that singular metamorphose from 
the plain and unassuming citizen to the nondescript 
animal, which has been represented as "lisping 
broken English," with heels full of polka and head 
full of nonsense, an abomination unto men, but an 
Adonis unto ladies. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



On our arrival at the city of Vienna, our first pro- 
ceeding, on the following day, was to climb the lofty 
steeple of the Cathedral of St. Stephen, from w^hose 
summit we had a splendid panoramic view of the ele- 
gant city and its handsome environs. While on our 
way to the cathedral, we saw what our guide-books 
called, " the tree of iron." This memento of the past 
is nothing more than the trunk of a tree, about six feet 
in length, and posted on one of the public corners of 
the city. Its entire exterior surface is covered with 
the heads of iron spikes, driven in by the wandering 
apprentices of Vienna. It seems that it was the 
custom of those mechanics, who, when they had 
served out the term of their apprenticeship, sought 
their fortunes in a distant land, first to repair to this 
" iron tree," and drive therein a nail. When we saw^ 
this ancient trunk it looked like some venerable old 
warrior, clad "cap-a-pie" in his coat of mail, and even 
more impervious than the Grecian hero, whose unfor- 
tunate heel was left sticking out when his mother, 
Thetis, plunged him into the river Styx. 

But arriving at the Cathedral, we began the ascent 

of it^ sky-piercing tower, which is said to be fouf 
(150) 



Memories oyer the Water. 151 

hundred and sixty-five feet in height. On a clear day 
the scope of the horizon, from this elevated point, 
extends not only over the city and its suburbs, but 
embraces in its wide compass the battle-fields of 
Lobau, Wagram, Asperne, and Essling, where clashed 
the contending armies of France and the Allied 
Powers, during the bloody exhibition of the Napo- 
leonic drama. Half way up the tower is the station 
of the city fire- watch, from which the sleepless sentinel 
looks out over the city, and whence the Count Stahrem- 
berg was wont, with his field-glass, to reconnoiter the 
camp of the besieging Turks, until from the height of 
the Kahlenberg, the christian banner was unfurled by 
John Sobieski, bringing welcome deliverance to the 
beleaguered city. The spire of St. Stephen stands a 
lofty guide to the bewildered stranger in Yienna. It 
is the central focus point of this circular city, whence 
the streets radiate like the fibers of the spider's web. 
Descending from the tower we next visited the 
Imperial Arsenal, where is an unnumbered collection 
of all manner of arms, so arranged as to beautify and 
adorn the long galleries, and yet ready for service at 
a moment's warning. This magazine of military 
stores far surpasses, in extent, the armory in the tower 
of London. We saw here many ancient relics, such 
as banners, and suits of armor that were once worn 
by illustrious persons. Among them was the bufi*- 
coat of Gustavus Adolphus, pierced by the bullet 
which caused his death at the battle of Lutzen. Unfor- 
timatelv the hole is in tlie hack of the coat. Leav- 



152 Memories over the Water. 

ing this unlucky memento of the King we came to an 
immense pile of rusty muskets, taken up from the 
battle-jfields of the late Hungarian war. We were 
told by the guide that many of them were still loaded. 
With this we concluded our visit, and thence strolled 
out upon the broad open space, which extends like a 
band about the interior city, and called by the citi- 
zens the '"' Glacis." It serves as a handsome park 
and promenade, and has been aptly termed ''the 
lungs of Yienna." Thence we proceeded to the 
" Volks-garten" — the evening resort of the city — 
and saw there the colossal group of Theseus killing 
the Centaur, by the hand of the immortal Oanova. 
This much-admired sculpture is placed in a small 
temple, erected exclusively for its reception, and into 
which we were admitted, by slipping a few kreutzers 
into the willing hand of the guard, who kept the 
key of the building. The execution of this work is 
very fine ; the efiect striking and impressive. Theseus 
is represented with his left knee planted against the 
breast of the exhausted Centaur, his left-hand grasp- 
ing the neck, while in his right he brandishes a club. 
The muscles of the body are all beautifully developed, 
and the proportions combine strength with activity of 
limb. On the brow of the Athenian hero is written 
vengeance and undaunted courage. 

At 7 o'clock we repaired to the opera, and wit- 
nessed the performance of "Eobert Le Diable." The 
fine music we could, of course, enjoy, but only 
regretted that we could not understand the words ; the 



Memories over the Water. 153 

opera being originally French, but translated into the 
German. The audience was full ; the music superb ; 
the dancing delightful, and the scenic eftect, at the 
opening of the ballet, beautiful beyond conception. 
In the scene just preceding the ballet you look upon 
the lonely graveyard, the white tombstones glimmer- 
ing in the pale rays of the moon, and a death-like 
stillness prevailing over the soft-winged hours of 
night. But as you gaze upon the dreamy solitude, 
a tall and stately figure, robed in a garment of white, 
with slow and solemn step approaches the dwelling 
place of the dead. No murmur escapes his lips; no 
sound from the measured footfall strikes upon the ear. 
Pausing now he waves his long and slender wand 
above the cold, gray tombs, and lo ! their marble lids 
are lifted up, and the very blood within your veins 
seems freezing round the heart, as the pale forms of 
the shrouded dead rise, with a cold and fixed gaze, 
upon their feet. But just here a loud crash of 
music breaks upon the ear, the glittering lamps throw 
a flood of light upon the stage, and dashing aside the 
vesture of the grave, about forty beautiful girls, like 
a trooping band of angels, flash upon your sight, and 
float gayly through the dance. At the conclusion, the 
devil, disappointed in obtaining his victim, suddenly 
descends into the infernal regions, amid the flashing 
of unearthly flames ; and the woman, his guardian 
angel, and apparently the queen of his heart, leads 
him triumphantly away to have their happy nuptials 
celebrated in the presence of the King and Queen. 
13 



154 Memories over the Water. 

On the following day we went to see the Imperial 
Picture Gallery, called the ''Belvidere." The situa- 
tion of this beautiful edifice is very fine, commanding 
an excellent view of Vienna. The grounds are well 
laid off* and abound in flowers, fountains and statuary. 
The collection of paintings in the palace is very exten- 
sive, and some of the sculpture exquisitely beautiful. 
Especially chaste and pure was the group of "Isaac 
and Eebecca," and also the figure of ''Morning," 
coming from the east with her long and flowing mantle, 
the star upon her forehead, and the bough within her 
hand. Returned to the hotel, and after dinner we 
strolled around the city, along by the high and frown- 
ing ramparts, whose bastion and redoubt are planted 
with cannon and guarded by soldiery. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



While in Vienna we called upon our Minister, 
Mr. McOurdy, of Connecticut, and were hospitably 
received by himself, his fair daughter, and his secre- 
tary. On the afternoon of the same day we took our 
seat in an omnibus at the door of our hotel, and 
visited the palace of Schonbrunn, the summer resi- 
dence of the Emperor, situated about two miles from 
the city. Here Napoleon made his quarters in 1809 ; 
and here his son, the Duke of Eeichstadt, died, in 
1832, at the age of twenty-one, and in the same room 
and in the same bed, it is said, that his father had 
occupied. The gardens are most magnificently laid 
ofi*, and elegantly adorned with the greatest profusion 
of statuary, and a number of splendid fountains, fish- 
ponds, and waterfalls. It was in these gardens that 
the German studentj Stapps, attempted the life of 
Napoleon, while strolling through the grounds, and 
for his temerity was shot down and buried on the 
spot. Just on the summit of the rising ground in 
the rear of the Palace, and overlooking the beautiful 
grounds below, is situated the " Gloriette," a hand- 
some structure, built in the style of a triumphal 

arch. From the summit of this monument we had a 

ri55) 



J 60 Mkmokies ovek the Water. 

charming view of Vienna and the adjacent country. 
Leaving Schonbrunn wo now strolled down to the 
village of Ilitzing, and rested at the '* Casino Dom- 
mayer," where .the ruralizing Yiennesc come to 
breathe the country air, and while they sip their ices 
and coffee, to list to the enchanting strains of Strauss' 
Band, which here, about the hour of sunset, discourse 
their inspiring music. Before leaving Vienna we had 
visited everything that was worthy of note, among 
other things the Cabinet of Antiquities, and the 
Church of San Augustine, famous for its celebrated 
mourning group at the sepulcher of Christina. 
Prominent among our recollections of Vienna was 
the kind and civil conduct of our gentlemanly land- 
lord, Mr. Munsch, and the cool and impudent bearing 
of the rascally commissioner of the hotel. Each and 
every traveler who comes in contact witli this mealy- 
mouthed valet, votes him wdthout exception the vilest 
and most deceitful dog that goes unhung. As for 
ourself, we may well say that we left the fair city of 
Vienna both " a sadder and a wiser man," and 
among the many lessons we had learned in our trans- 
atlantic travel was the truth of that old Latin 
maxim — ^^ Ccclum non aiiimwn mutant qui trans 
mare cicmcnt.^'^ But "live and learn" was our ever- 
consoling motto, and so, with a light heart, we again 
went forth in quest of other scenes and other adven- 
tures, amid different people and in different lands. 
Our wings were now plumed for the sunny plains of 
Italy, where from the pall of the past spring themes 



Memories over the Water. 157 

for lofty thought — where glory and valor and song had 
birth, and where immortal heroes of classic memory 
had their homes, by the shores of the "Yellow Tiber" 
and the gentle Arno. Our heart was swelling with 
pleasant memories, fresh from the pages of Yirgil, of 
Horace, and of Cicero; and our very spirit leaped 
within us as the strong-limbed iron steed dashed out 
from the handsome depot, and sped onward toward 
"that child of sorrow and that land of song." Soon 
after leaving Vienna we passed through Baden, the 
great watering-place of Austria, and thence held on 
our course toward Glocknitz, winding mostly along 
the bed of some mountain stream, through valley and 
gorge, with old ruins innumerable capping the pine- 
clad hills above us. A ride of a few hours brought 
us to the Glocknitz, and here we changed our cars for 
the omnibus, by which to cross the Semmering Alp, 
which was then being partly graded and partly tun- 
neled for the passage of the cars over its lofty height. 
Never can we forget the highly amusing and ridicu- 
lous confusion that we experienced in the change 
from the train to the coaches. Immediately that the 
cars stopped, the most of the passengers rushed out 
and secured their seats in the omnibuses, filling up 
most of them, which as soon as they had received 
their complement of persons, forthwith drove on. 
Friend Fogg and ourself, having been delayed for 
some time about our baggage, began to be apprehen- 
sive lest all the seats might be taken before us, and 
we be left behind. Indeed we began in confusion. 



158 Memories over the "Water. 

and concluded in "confusion worse confounded." 
We could speak only the fewest words of German, 
and were compelled to rely upon our wits and the 
motions of the crowd about us to direct our own 
movements. So, on reaching our destination, Fogg 
approaching a stranger with a huge moustache- — who, 
by the way, was a jovial son of Neptune, Lieutenant 
Jones, of the United States' navy — and taking him to 
be a German, and one who could not understand 
English, says Fogg— " Glocknitz, Glocknitz?" look- 
ing Jones in the face, and pointing through the win- 
dows of the car to the town without. " Yaw ! yaw !" 
returned Jones, encouraging the mistake, and looking 
as grave as a deacon. Thereupon our two "modern 
travelers" got out, and after being bothered for a con- 
siderable time about our baggage, w^e next bethought 
ourselves of a seat in an omnibus. For some time 
we searched in vain. All the seats were compact!}^ 
filled, and omnibus after omnibus rattled away, until 
we began to grow desperate. Now these cumbrous 
old diligences are curiously constructed. The body 
of the coach is divided off into several partitions, and 
among these was one division just behind, and capa- 
ble of containing only two persons. It so happened 
that Fogg, in his search for a seat, had found a 
diligence, in whose rear apartment was a single 
German traveler. Without more ado, he possessed 
himself of this remaining vacant seat. But Fogg and 
ourself were traveling on the same "through ticket," 
and as this last dilierence drove off, he called to us 



Memories oyer the Water. 159 

that this was our only chance, at the same time 
making as much room for us as possible at his side. 
'No sooner said than we piled in on our friend of 
"Fader-land," without the first word of apology or 
preliminary notice, and there we were, a precious trio, 
rammed as tight as wax within the narrow inclosure. 
Upon being thus unceremoniously crowded, the Ger- 
man's face grew red with ire, and volley after volley 
of Dutch abuse he poured upon us. But not compre- 
hending one word of his violent tirade, save the 
constant repetition of the ''zwei persons" — signifying 
two persons — we paid not the least attention to his 
increasing wrath, and were only intent on learning 
w^hether all was right with us. The German's choler 
was now waxing louder and stronger, and we were in 
momentary expectation of his attempting to expel us 
"vi et armis" from the coach. But our own equa- 
nimity had been a little ruffled, and we were just in 
the humor, provided the son of a Dutchman had 
resorted to any physical arguments, to have seized 
him by the nape of the neck and tumbled him " heels 
over head" out of the door. In this delectable con- 
dition we had ridden, we suppose, about one mile, 
when suddenly recollecting the custom of German 
traveling, we turned to our companion and said — 
'*But, Fogg, have you changed our ticket?" "No! I 
have not," was the curt reply. " Then, by the piper! 
we are in a pretty mess," we returned. "Well, we 
must go back, that's all," quoth Fogg, and suiting 
the action to the word, he bounced out, and went 



160 Memories over the Water. 

tearing back, like mad, to the office we liad just left, 
his overcoat dangling on his arm, and flying in the 
wind. Now as we were both traveling on the same 
ticket, and Fogg had that, we concluded we would 
have to follow, and so, without even bidding our 
German friend good morning, we also jumped out, 
gathered up ourself upon our legs, and made an effort 
to follow. But just here, with the rear of our flying 
friend in full view, and our choleric companion 
behind us, our sense of the ridiculous came so per- 
suasively upon us that we gave over the chase, laugh- 
ing heartily at our condition, and perfectly reconciled 
to anything that might now turn up. But the 
doughty Dutchman concluded in his own mind that 
we had been put to flight by his valorous words, 
when in truth we had heard but little and heeded less 
of what he said. On again coming up to the office, 
we found friend Fogg pale from his rapid exercise, 
and panting between every word, as he endeavored to 
explain to the German officer our dilemma, while he, 
equally mystified, bounced about, jabbering his jaw- 
breaking German. This was too much for our com- 
posure, and despite our predicament, we sat down 
and laughed until we could hardly move. In the 
end, our misfortune turned out not so serious as we 
had imagined. Another omnibus was procured, and 
in due time we overhauled those who had gone 
on before us. 



CHAPTER XXV, 



On reaching the foot of the Semmering Alp, we 
dismounted and commenced the ascent of the moun- 
tain-pass afoot, outstripping the cumbrous coaches 
by short tacks and brisk walking. The summit of 
the Semmering is estimated at three thousand one 
hundred and twenty-five feet above sea level. At 
''Murzzuschlag Stat," the railway depot on the southern 
side of the mountain, we again took the cars, and 
went rattling along the banks of the Mur, whose bold 
and lofty views, standing out in clear relief against 
the sky, make glad the heart, as the delighted eye 
glances along the proud mountain scenery. About 
nightfall we passed by the city of Gratz, the capital 
of Styria, and containing about forty thousand inhab- 
itants. "We traveled all that night, and about day- 
break on the following morning we reached Laybach. 
Here the railway terminated, and taking '^ the post" 
at six o'clock w^e bolted right on for Trieste. The 
country, through which we passed, abounded still in 
beautiful views, many of them receiving the charm of 
romance by the battlemented walls of some old feudal 
castle, that, like a grim sentinel, sat moldering and 
lonely upon the isolated hills. We may not forget 

(161) 



162 Memories over the Water. 

the fair lady whom we had as a traveling companion 
— a pleasant, affable and intelligent German, with blue 
eyes and brown hair, who had been on a visit to a 
friend, who lived beyond the Semmering, and was now 
homeward bound, alone and unprotected, to her res- 
idence on the Gulf of Venice. She spoke the French 
language with perfect fluency, and with that ease and 
'' abandon " of manner, so peculiar to the fair travelers 
of France ; she entered into conversation with us, by 
which we managed very pleasantly to while away the 
weary hours. As night came on our fair incognito 
opened a small carpet-bag, and taking therefrom a 
couple of close-fitting traveling bonnets, she put on one 
herself, and handed the other to us, suggesting that we 
would find it more comfortable for sleeping than our 
hat. With our kindest thanks for her considerate 
courtesy, the bonnet immediately usurped the place of 
our beaver ; an exchange which fully verified the 
w^ords of our pretty companion, and rendered doubly 
agreeable by the reflection that her own sweet face and 
dimpled cheeks had often nestled within the same 
soft, silken folds, wherein our owm caput was now so 
snugly ensconced. A few hours rolled quietly by, 
and after a long and wearisome ascent, our driver 
stopped to give his horses a breathing-spell, and the 
lady observed that we were now in view of Trieste. 
We had, indeed, reached the summit of the mountain, 
which, rising up immediately in the rear of the city, 
looks out upon the Gulf of Yenice. That name, like 
a magnetic shock, aroused us from our drowsy mood, 



Memories oyer the Water. 163 

and we sprang out of the diligence to view the 
noble scene that lay spread before us. All earth was 
cradled upon the bosom of night. The moon and the 
stars, from out their azure home, shone serenely down 
on city, gulf and mountain. The lamps, along the 
margin of the water, reflected their glowing rays out 
upon the placid surface of the Adriatic, that like a 
mass of molten silver stretched far away, until sky 
and water blended. In fine we had crossed the proud 
Alps, and standing on the last spur of the Carnic chain, 
by the light of the loving moon we first hailed "the 
bright clime of battle and of song." He who, from 
his early youth, hath loitered among academic shades, 
treading the quiet courts of the Goddess Minerva, 
whose spirit hath been ever straying amid the deep, 
dim shadows of the past, ancPlingering long above the 
classic clime of Italy, where 

*'A thousand years their cloudy wings expand, 
And a dying glory smiles — " 

he may know the throng of busy fancies that hurried 
through our heart, as in the stillness of that autumn 
night we first looked out upon the waters of the 
Adriatic. 

'* Cold is the heart, fair land, that looks on thee, 
!N'or feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved !" 

As the old patriarch of Judah, from the hoary brow 
of Pisgah, gazed upon the 'land of promise,' so did 
our exultant eye go forth to greet this embodiment of 
our early dreams. But, unlike the great lawgiver, 
our foot was not forbidden to press that classic ground, 



164 Memories oyer the Water. 

where every step is sacred in history and song, and 
from whose every vale and mountain wake memories 
of the past. Far away in our western home, across 
the rolling billows of the broad Atlantic, onr budding 
thoughts were wont to seek this very land, and like 
some lone spirit of the unburied dead haunt its sad 
and holy beauties. 

But our horses are rested, and the impatient coach- 
man is calling for us to mount. It may be that our 
rough friend is anxious to get down into the city, and 
receive the warm welcome of his wife and children. 
He may, even now, have before his eyes the pictures 
of his happy fireside, and so we will no longer delay. 
^'AU aboard !" and again we are in motion, lumbering 
down the tortuous mountain road, until we reached 
the city walls. Admission gained we proceeded on 
our way, and draw up at the diligence depot, whence 
we must foot it to the ^' Hotel National," situated just 
upon the margin of the Gulf. 

Having slept but little for several nights previous, 
on arriving at Trieste we found ourself considerably 
exhausted, and the sun was high in the heavens on 
the following morning when we awoke. Breakfast 
over we started out for a long stroll over the city. We 
found it a busy and thriving place, reminding us, in 
its activity and trade, more of an American city than 
any we had seen on the continent. The docks were 
filled with vessels of every class, and the sailors of 
all nations were busily engaged in receiving and 
discharging their costly cargoes. Here you may hear 



Memories oyek the Water. 165 

every language and view every costume. Trieste is, 
in fact, the great " entire port " for all southern 
Germany, and is rapidly despoiling Venice of what- 
ever trade she may, at this day, possess. The popu- 
lation of Trieste is necessarily of a motley character — • 
being a free port — and amounts to about seventy-five 
thousand souls. 

Before leaving we went up to see Duomo and the 
castle. The old Cathedral was founded in the fifth 
century, and its tower, '' according to the tradition of 
the elders," stands on the former site of an ancient 
temple, dedicated to Jupiter. We saw the old broken 
pillars of marble, with their Corinthian capitals, 
inclosed in the walls of the tower, and braced 
together by bands of iron. While loitering about 
the church, the bells of the tower pealed loudy forth, 
and a detachment of soldiers, filing out from the 
castle gates, marched down into the city, a relief- 
guard to those then on duty below. On our return to 
the hotel we suddenly came upon the great fi*uit 
market, where every variety of the production, that 
could tempt the palate, was spread out in the greatest 
profusion. Among many others we recollect there 
were olives, oranges, grapes, figs, pomegranates, 
lemons, apples, pears, chestnuts and tomatoes. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



About six o'clock on the morning of the 7th of 
October, we left the city of Trieste aboard a small 
steamer, called the ''x4rclduca Federico," bound 
direct for Venice. Om' prow is pointed to the 
south-west, and gliding smoothly over the tranquil 
gulf, about noon we came in view of the ocean queen, 
rising from out the Adriatic wave with a diadem of 
domes. Rounding the long sand-bank, and doubling 
the strip of land which intervenes between Venice 
and the sea, we entered the city of the gondola, 
and droj)ped our anchor in the ''Grand CanaL" 
Our water-ladders are now let down, and descend- 
ing to the wave, we tumbled our baggage into one 
of the numerous gondolas, which were flocking round 
the vessel, and forthwith proceeded to the ''Albergo 
dell Europa," situated just opposite the "Dogana 
del Mare," and in other days called the "Giustiani 
Palace." The beak of om- gondola strikes the mar- 
ble steps, and springing from her prow, we stood 
within the city of a hundred Isles. 

" I loved her from my boyhood — she to me 
Was as a fairy city of the heart, 
Rising like water columns from the sea, 
Of joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart." 

(166) 



Memories oyer the Water. 167 

The first thing that strikes the eye of the stranger in 
Venice is the shattered appearance of the buildings, 
and the mournful desolation that seems to prevail 
over this " bride of the sea.'^ How sad the contrast 
of her present condition to the days of her early 
bloom and beauty. She seems even like unto one 
of her bankrupt merchants. The days of her doges 
are passed ! she is shorn of her glory — she has long 
gone to decay ! Her marble fronts are timeworn 
and broken, and in the halls of her former princes 
now revels the Austrian hireling — a palace for his 
barracks and the bedrooms of royalty for his ruth- 
less desecration. Her people are poor and degraded — 
her noble sons now evil and degenerate — her beaute- 
ous daughters now wayward and wretched. 

" In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more, 
And silent rows the songless gondolier ; 
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, 
And music greets not always now the ear — 
But unto us she hath a spell beyond 
Her name in story, and her long array 
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond 
Above the dogeless city." 

Venice is at present an Austrian province, contains 
106,000 inhabitants, is built on 76 islands, with 146 
canals crossed by 306 public bridges. But it is not 
absolutely necessaiy for you to take a gondola in 
your travels through the city ; it will certainly much 
expedite your progress ; but yet there are side- walks 
along the most of the canals, by means of which the 



168 Memories over tpie Water. 

pedestrian may find his way from one extremity to 
the other. At every step some object, associated 
with the poetry of his early reading, presents itself 
before him. Our first visit was to the Piazza and 
Cathedral of San Marco, the former one of the hand- 
somest squares in the world, and the latter one of 
the richest and most singular churches. The Cathe- 
dral floor is beautifully tasselated, but time-worn and 
uneven. Its many domes and spires rise up from the 
massy roof, resembling in their peculiar architecture 
the Mosques of Mohammedan worship. On the left 
of the Cathedral is the Molo. On the right, fronting 
the Molo, stand the two famous columns, the one 
mounted with a Lion, the other with a Crocodile. 

" St. Mark yet sees Lis Lion, where lie stood, 
Stand, but in mockery of his "withered power, 
Over the proud place where an Emperor sued — 
The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns — 
An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt. 
Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains 
Clank over sceptered cities ; nations melt 
From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt 
The sunshine for a while, and downward go, 
Like lauwine loosened from the mountain's belt.'' 

Upon the brow of St. Mark we saw the celebrated 
bronze horses, four in number, whose history has 
been one of constant migration. Coming first from 
the far east, they landed at Venice. Thence they 
were taken to Paris by Napoleon, but subsequently 
restored again to Yenice. On the right of the Cathe- 
dral is a lofty tower, surmounted by two bronze 



Memories over the Water. 169 

statues, who with their iron arms strike the hour 
of the day, against a large bell, by the side of which 
they stand. One of these figures once committed 
murder, by knocking an unfortunate workman, who 
was engaged in making repairs, over the parapet 
upon the pavement below. Whether the grim statue 
was ever indicted for manslaughter we did not learn. 
At one corner of the Cathedral there is a stone called 
'' the pillar of shame," because thereupon it was com- 
manded that the Venetian merchants, who had be- 
come insolvent, should publicly receive '' the benefit 
of the bankrupt law." We saw too the old bell of the 
Tower, that tolled the election of Foscari's successor, 
sending a dull and heart-heavy sound to the old 
man's soul, as his tottering steps bore him from the 
halls of his ancestors. 

While in Yenice we would frequently engage a 
gondola, and explore the old city throughout its 
every nook and corner. The gondola is an odd -look- 
ing aflair, and pretty well described by Byron in the 
following ofi*-hand style — 

'' Didst ever see a gondola ? For fear 
You should not, I'll describe it jou exactly : 
*Tis a long cover'd boat that's common here. 
Carved at the prow, built lightly but compactly, 
Row'd by two rowers, each call'd " gondolier :'* 
It glides along the water looking blackly, 
Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe, 
Where none can make out what you say or do." 

Taking our start from the mouth of the " Grand 
Canal," that through the center of the city winds 
14 



170 Memories over the Water, 

like the letter S, vfe would direct the prow wherever 
our fancy might lead. On one occasion we were 
about concluding an agreement with an old and 
grizzly gondolier to take us over the city, when 
gliding rapidly by came a youthful and athletic oars- 
man, plying his gondola with such dexterity and 
grace, that abandoning the idea of employing our 
ancient waterman, we turned and forthwith engaged 
his more youthful rival. The indignant old man, 
deliberately stepping upon the Molo, as we moved 
away, with that graceful dignity of manner peculiar 
to the Italian race, made us his profoundest bow : 
then turning right about with Ms rear guard directed 
upon OMV front ^\iQ again repeated his lowly salutation, 
and next, completing the revolution, he made his 
third salaam, with a dignified wave of the head, and 
retired. We forgave the old villain his shameless 
insolence, and richly enjoyed the peculiar expression 
of his haughty contempt. In fact it is far better to 
be civil to the gondolier under all circumstances ; for 
then he will ever be courteous to you. As a class of 
men they are a set of careless, singing, good-looking, 
devil-may-care fellows, who beg no favors and brook 
no abusive treatment. But moving up the Grand 
Canal we proceeded throughout its entire length, 
passing by many a lordly palace, whose marble fronts, 
though sadly shattered by the hand of time, still bear 
evidence of their former glory. '' Gently glides our 
gondolier," and here is the old ''Exchange" — a 
perfect picture of decay — so changed that the accus- 



Memories oyer the Water. 171 

tomed eye of Shylock would now hardly recognize its 
battered walls. There stands the former abode of the 
Foscari family ; here the " Pizarro Palace," and 
yonder the building where Byron resided with the 
fair Countess Guiccioli. Coming out at the upper 
end of the canal we paused under one of the arches 
of the "Ponte di Laguna" — a magnificent structure 
built for the railway, across the Lagoon, and connect- 
ing Yenice with the main land. This bridge is more 
than two miles in length, and is said to have occupied 
two thousand workmen for several years of daily 
labor before it was completed. Changing our route 
we returned to our hotel, making on our way a 
general exploration of the city winding along through 
broad and narrow canals, and by many a marble 
palace, to which the salt sea- weed was idly clinging. 
We visited the '' Manfrini Palace," so famous for its 
pictures. We saw there the celebrated portrait of 
Ariosto by Titian, of which Byron so enthusiastically 
speaks. Visited more cathedrals, whose histories are 
nearly coeval with that of Yenice herself. We also 
rowed to the Arsenal, but not having written permits 
from the city authorities, we were not allowed to 
enter. While meandering through the dark and 
narrow canals we were kept in continual trepidation, 
lest some busy Yenetian housewife should discharge 
the contents of her tubs upon our devoted heads. 
We heard their splash behind and before us, but 
happily escaped. We ascended the high tower at 
the corner of the Molo, whence we studied the geo- 



172 Memories over the Water. 

graphy of the city, and wound up the proceedings 
of the day by a stroll upon the '' Piazza San Marco " 
at night. Here the Venetians assembled every even- 
ing of the week, while the fine military band, 
quartered in the city, beguile their ears with their 
martial strains — an Austrian artifice to cheat the 
abject sons of Venice into a contented spirit, and 
lure their thoughts from their pristine liberties. 
Here the citizens of both sexes nightly congregate, 
strolling along under the brilliantly illuminated ar- 
cades, peering into the shop windows, or else saunter- 
ing out in the open squares, under the smile of the 
cloudless sky. Venice by moonlight is indeed a glorious 
sight. The moonbeams fall like a mantle of beauty 
over the battered walls, as if in mercy to hide their 
wasting decay. The soft stars look lovingly into 
their own bright eyes, through the mirror of the 
waves — the memory of the past weaves a holy spell 
around the heart, and the still spirit worships once 
more at the shrine of its early dreams. 



CHAPTER XXVII 



Before leaving Venice we, of course, ''did up" 
the Ducal Palace from the Giant's Staircase to the 
Piombi. Whether the head of old Marino Faliero 
did really roll down these same marblesteps is of no 
consequence. You are told that such w^as the case, 
and to make the best of your travels you must look 
on such places as though they w^ere certainly the 
witnesses to the deed. It creates the same feeling, 
and answers the same purpose. We next saw the 
famous '' Lion's Mouth," w^iich, now that Venice is 
no more, is no longer the terror of the traitor's heart. 
After ascendins: several flio-hts of stairs we were 
show^n into the Inquisitorial Chamber, where the 
prisoners were examined and tortured. Thence, we 
proceeded to the council chamber of the " Ten." 
From this we passed into several large antecham- 
bers, one leading into the Senate Chamber, and 
another into the Reception Hall of the Ambassadors 
— the latter being the handsomest room in the Palace, 
Here we found the Rape of Europa and the Venice 
Triumphant, by Paul Veronese. Next we visited the 
other side of the Palace. We entered the Hall of 
Debate, now converted into a Library. The Paradise 

( 173 ) 



174 Memories over the Water. 

of Tintoretti ©ecupies one end of it, and the other 
sides are covered with representations of the different 
battles of the Eepublic. Napoleon has robbed the 
Ducal Palace of many of its choicest ornaments, 
some of which are now to be seen in the Louvre 
Galleries at Paris. But he left the long line of the 
Doges, ranged close to the ceiling, in the Hall of 
Debate, untouched. The lengthy succession is yet 
unbroken, except where the black curtain of Marino 
Faliero suddenly rivets the attention, and fills the 
mind with a mournful and mysterious interest. '^ It 
breathes the vindictive spirit of Patrician hate, Vv^iose 
mask was patriotism, but whose aim was power." 
Finally, under the pilotage of a guide, with a lighted 
torch in his hand, we visited the dungeons. They 
all open on a narrow passage, are about six feet 
square, and as dark as Erebus. Our ambition for 
groping about in the '' deeper depths ^' of darkness 
was fully gratified by the time w^e once more emerged 
into the light of day, when mounting a flight of stone 
steps 

" We stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, 
A palace and a prison on either hand." 

This was our last sight-seeing expedition in Venice, 
and soon after we took a gondola from the door of 

'^ Hotel Europa," and in company with II and 

P started for the railway station. On arriving at 

the passenger depot we found a goodly number of the 
Venetians in w^aitin^. It was Sunday morning, and 
Sunday with them is a gala-day. About half-past 



Memories oyer the Water. 175 

ten the long train was on the move, with a fine mili- 
tary band playing in our foremost cars. Speeding 
over the magnificent bridge, connecting main-land 
with the '' city of the sea," we went bounding over 
" terra-firma " with the bright sun of a cloudless 
morn shining down on our pathway. The chain of 
the Tyrolese Mountains stood out toward the north, 
and, as seen through the soft and dreamy haze of the 
morning, was classically beautiful. But we could not 
relish the idea of rushing through Italy upon the rail- 
car. It seemed as though we were disturbing the 
dust of antiquity — that we were breaking the sacred 
spell of ages, and desecrating with ruthless step the 
shrine, whither love and poetry and romance had fled 
for seclusion. But speeding onward through a lovely 
country, blushing with the purple grape, we succes- 
sively passed by Padua and Vicenza, and about two 
o'clock, p. M., reached the fair city of Yerona. Taking 
an omnibus from the railway terminus, we were 
driven forthwith to the city gates, where we were 
detained for some time by the examination of our 
passports. Passing now under the dark and heavy 
gateway, above which frowned the black-mouthed 
cannon, we drove ''tout-a-droit" down an almost 
interminable street, and were finally deposited at our 
excellent hotel — the "Torre di Londra " — w^here we 
first washed, dined, employed a "commissionaire," 
and set out to see the sights of Yerona. First, we 
visited the palace and burying-ground of some noble 
house, whose name we have forgotten, but which we 



176 Memories over the Water. 

found rich in marble monument. Went next to the 
amphitheater, which is said to be in a better state of 
preservation than any other extant. This old ruin is 
really an interesting object, being built entirely of 
stone, and withal colossal in its proportions. The 
seats rise one above the other in some forty-four tiers, 
existing just as they were in the days of the Empire. 
We made the circuit of the topmost tier, and plucked 
therefrom a little flower that modestly grew in one of 
the crevices of the stonework. Next we went to the 
old Roman Gate, which, it is said, w^as long standing 
prior to the birth of Christ. Here our companions. 
Hart and Fogg, grew weary and returned to the 
hotel. But discharging the valet we went forth upon 
a voyage of discovery, rather preferring to sail with- 
out the escort of a convoy. We again retraced our 
steps to the old Amphitheater, crossed over the 
"Grand Place," and struck into the handsome prome- 
nade leading out to the southern gate. An immense 
concourse of citizens thronged along this thorough- 
fare, and we were struck with a gentility of dress and 
manner, which does not usually belong to the cities 
of Italy. The beauteous women, and total absence 
of beggars, contrasted agreeably with what w^e had 
just left in the squalid alleys of Yenice. But one 
seeks in vain here for the golden locks and softened 
features of Titian's " Bella Donna." The women are 
dark, imperious and bewitching, with a dashy style, 
and a wicked sparkle in their eye. The warm gaze 
of the Verona girl is passion's essence, and the pages 



Memories over the Water. 177 

of romance could scarcely exaggerate the deeds she 
dare do in her love's madness. But onward we went, 
passing out of the city, turning to the west, and 
strolling along the grass-clad moats and lofty walls, 
while as lovely and as glowing a picture as ever 
found "a habitation and a home," in the day-dreams 
of the poet, was flitting before our view. The sun 
had just gone to rest, and left his purple mantle 
on the Tyrol Hills. All was so calm, so soft, so 
dream-like, and so still, that it seemed as though 
some sweet vision had stolen gently o'er the musing 
heart, soothing it into an oblivious trance, and trans- 
porting the passive spirit to the golden realms of 
dream-land. We looked upon the sunset scene 
before us, and within our heart we could have wept 
over the fallen state of that land of the classic and 
the cloudless clime. The bright morning breaks as 
beauteously, and the calm sweet night steals as gently 
o'er thy blushing bosom as in the days of yore. But 
alas! how changed thy lot, how wasted is the beauty 
of thy smile ! Like to thy sweet daughter, Beatrice, 
thine was the gift, the dangerous gift of beauty, and 
thou art fallen. We turned from the fairy view and 
from our own meditation, as the shadows of night 
began to curtain in the city, and re-entering by the 
southern gate, we mingled again amid the gay and 
busy crowd, that swarmed along the illumined 
streets. As we returned hotel- ward we encountered a 
funeral procession, bearing the body of some departed 
brother, by the light of the flickering torch, to his 



178 Memories over the Water. 

last resting-place. The priest preceded the corpse in 
his long white robes, and the mourners followed after. 
A funeral cortege is a solemn sight under the smile 
of day, but a burial by torchlight haunts the remotest 
recess of the soul, and stirs from their silent caverns 
a thousand dismal specters. It puts to Jlight every 
thought of human folly, and sweeps with a strong 
arm every vestige of mirth from out the heart of the 
spectator. 



CHAPTER iXVIII, 



On the morning of the 13th of October, 1851, the 
Tower of Verona disappeared rapidly from our sight, 
as we made the run down to Mantua in an hour and 
a quarter on the cars. Mantua is a singular place, 
unique in its appearance and position, and conspicu- 
ous for the sieges that have been made against its 
walls in both ancient and modern times. The gar- 
rison of soldiery comprises no inconsiderable portion 
of its population, and is doubtless an eyesore as well 
as a burden to the laboring classes. We could only 
feel thankful that no such incubus rested on the pro- 
gress of our own country, and that freedom might still 
claim a home so long as the institutions of America 
found existence; that liberty of speech was not 
visited with the penalty of the code of Yenice, where 
only a few days before some poor fellow, more rash 
than wise, for the expression of some republican 
opinion, was swung from the gallows, and actually 
suffered to hang by the neck throughout the entire 
day, a ghastly warning to all others of a similar 
creed. 

Mantua is one of the best fortified cities in the 
world, both by nature and bv art. But the city, 

(179) 



180 Memories over the Water. 

impregnable to the assaults of man, yet finds its 
conqueror in the monster death, who, owing to the 
noxious miasma arising from its stagnant marshes, 
revels in this birthplace of the poet Yirgil. Barracks 
and military hospitals* abound, and from the latter 
we would frequently see file forth a wan and ghastly 
body of emaciated men, whose woe-begone appear- 
ance would have put to blush the corps of Falstafi' 
itself. 

We left Mantua in the ''Courier" — the regular 
mail coach — passing through Modena and Bologna, 
and reached Florence on the following morning about 
sunrise. In traveling through Italy, the stranger to 
its arts and customs may as well reconcile himself, 
from the word 'go,' to a constant succession of 
impositions. Though he may not for once be de- 
cidedly '^taJcen in^^^ yet he will encounter at every 
step a species of swindling, which it is utterly impos- 
sible to evade. We could but wonder that such a 
policy is pursued by the people of Italy, supported 
and sustained as they are by the immense influx of 
strangers, who annually leave them a golden harvest. 
They must feel and know that their country has 
become, as it were, one vast exhibition ; that what- 
ever of wealth and vitality it now possesses may be 
attributed to the golden shower that is hailed upon 
them, principally from the pockets of English and 
American travelers ; and yet it would seem that, 
by their swindling, their impositions, and their 
knavery, it was the one object to get as much as 



Memories over the Water. 181 

possible from the purse of the stranger, and leave 
only the resolution in his heart never to set foot upon 
that soil again, if it be his good fortune once more to 
get out of it. The cities of Italy are perfect catch- 
traps for the unwary. You bribe in and you bribe 
out. The keeper of the gate tells you that you must 
allow your baggage to be looked into and your pass- 
port to be seen. But the sight of a handful of silver 
will allay all the worthy potential's curiosity, and he 
will pass you in with a ' God speed ' on your way, and 
never feel the first blush for his own corruption. The 
cities, too, are entered through frowning fortifications, 
planted with cannon and guarded with soldiery. 
They are generally surrounded by high walls and 
deep moats, the latter being crossed by means of the 
drawbridge. 

Bologna we found quite a handsome city, its 
outward appearance indicating a cleanliness and 
prosperity that was in marked contrast with the 
majority of Italian towns. We left Bologna about 
five o'clock, p. M., and passing many handsome 
villas, with their stately gateways, hedge-fences, and 
long avenues, we were soon after ascending the 
heights of the Apennines, which, throughout the day, 
we had seen ofi* to the right. We traveled all that 
night, and with a dull and heavy headache, which 
utterly incapacitated us for the enjoyment of the fine 
mountain views by moonlight. Indeed we spent a 
most wretched night, and morn came like an angel 
from the East, as it broke lovingly over the fair 



182 Memories oyer the Water. 

landscape, discovering to our eyes the poetic Florence, 
lying in a rich and smiling valley at our feet, its 
proud dome lifting its lofty head among the clouds, 
and the many white-walled villas in its vicinity 
embowered in their green orchards, and shining 
brightly in the morning sun. We reached the 
"Hotel New York," overlooking the turbid Arno, 
and in due time our physical condition was much 
improved by cold bath and clean linen. This much 
accomplished, we started out from our hotel, and soon 
after dropped in at the '' Caffe Americano," to get a 
cup of coffee. While quietly sipping the refreshing 
beverage, our sight was suddenly greeted by one of 
those pictures of Italian life, which from our early 
boyhood had been associated with our images of 
beauty and romance, in the person of a genuine 
flower-girl of Florence, with her broad-brimmed hat 
and blue ribbon, basket of flowers and tidy dress, a 
rosy cheek and a smiling face. She must have 
immediately recognized us as a stranger, for, passing 
by all the other visitors at the Caffe, she came 
directly to our table, and made us the object of her 
special attention. Culling two of her fairest bouquets 
from her basket of flowers, she presented them with 
an easy grace, entering at the same time into a series 
of pretty questions and observations in the courteous 
and musical language of her country, and finally 
retiring with the same winning grace that distin- 
guished her "entree." These flower-girls never expect 
that you should pay for their pretty presents on 



Memories ovek the Water. 183 

receiving them. They will, however, meet you, with- 
out fail, each morning with a fair and fresh bouquet, 
and only anticipate a recompense prior to your depar- 
ture from their city. K they meet you walking on the 
street, they will, with an ease and dexterity almost 
miraculous, fasten a bunch of their flowers in the 
buttonhole of your coat, and with a smile pass on. 
This is certainly a species of begging ; but with us 
they were ever welcome, for the poetry of their 
vocation, for their sweet smiles, their bright eyes, and 
their blooming cheeks. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



On reaching Florence the weather, which up to 
that time had been bright and cloudless, suddenly 
grew damp and dreary. The rainy season had set in, 
and the clouds continually poured forth their floods, 
rendering the streets slippery and disagreeable, and 
causing the Arno, fed by mountain tributaries, to 
surge madly along, a bold and muddy torrent. With 
nothing more important on hand, we would fre- 
quently loiter along the " Vin Maggiv," and stopping 
on the ''Ponte Santa Trinita," watch the crowd that 
unceasingly poured across. This bridge is a broad 
and handsome structure, whose four corners are 
severally ornamented with marble statues, represent- 
ing the four seasons. But the most interesting spot 
about Florence is the '' Panza Gran Duca," where 
sculpture of world-wide fame is to be found in rich 
profusion. In the center of the square stands the 
bronze equestrian statue of Cosmo First, in all the 
regal dignity of his character. Fronting the " Palazza 
Vechia," whose somber walls look as stern and for- 
bidding as the lawless democracy that once ran riot 
there, is the celebrated David of Michael Angelo. 

The marble of this statue, however, is defective ; but 
(184) 



Memories oyer the Watek. 185 

independent of this we could perceive nothing of that 
rare merit in the execution of the work that an 
admiring world accords it. Among the other groups 
w^e recollect Hercules destroying Cacus, Perseus cut- 
ting off the head of the Medusa, the Eape of the 
Sabines, and Theseus killing the Centaur. The 
Fountain of Neptune, on the left of the Palace, 
is a magnificent work of art. The Duomo of 
Florence is a huge and costly building, w^hose dome 
was the proudest of all the works of the immortal 
Angelo. Adjoining the Cathedral is the Baptistery, 
whose doors the artist pronounced worthy to be the 
gates of Paradise. We thought them most beautifully 
and elaborately WTOught, but could not agree with 
Angelo in his profane admiration, especially when 
such representations as Leda and the Swan, and other 
heathen fables equally objectionable, w^ere engraved 
in bold relief upon their sides. Most of the churches 
of Florence have a rough and unfinished appearance, 
and the palaces w^ear a gloomy, feudal air, recording 
with their iron bars and massive doors the violence 
of the age in which their architect flourished. The 
popular evening resort is the Cascine, a handsome 
arrangement of pleasure-grounds, about a mile below 
the city, on the left bank of the Arno. On one 
Sunday afternoon, as we were strolling along the 
smoothly -graveled walks, w^e encountered the Grand 
Duke of Tuscany, making an airing in an open car- 
riage. He seemed to us a venerable and benevolent 
old man, and w^as graciously doffing his hat to his 



186 Memoeies over the Water. 

loyal and devoted subjects as he passed. On reach- 
ing the Cascine we discovered, in one of the numerous 
carriages that are generally ranged about the band of 
music, one of the fair acquaintances of our college 
days. Miss Anna Henning, of New Orleans, with 
whom we had danced away many a merry hour in 
our native city. Just for the sake of an experiment, 
we strolled carelessly up to the carriage, and without 
making ourself at all known, addressed our fair 
friend, when to the gratification of a pardonable 
vanity, we were immediately recognized. Next fol- 
lowed an introduction to a young lady from Russia, 
and then a stroll over the grounds. While on the 
promenade, however, a young oflScer of the Austrian 
army came up and laid us under many obligations by 
taking charge of the lady of the snowy clime, and 
leaving us alone with the pretty Anna. We had a 
pleasant chat over the olden time, and about our 
mutual friends in Nashville, and on parting in the 
evening we received a pressing invitation to call fre- 
quently at the " Casa Gratzieni." It was now dusk, 
and on our return to the city we overtook our travel- 
ing companion, Fogg, in company with Messrs. Hart 
and Gait, two young American sculptors, located in 
Florence. Hart has won considerable reputation as 
an artist, and was delegated by the ladies of Eich- 
mond, Virginia, to go to Florence for the purpose of 
executing a statue of Henry Clay. Young Gait is 
also a sculptor of promise. While we were in Flor- 
ence he was at work on a piece, which he called the 



Memories oyek the Water. 187 

nymph Psyche, and which was considered a very. 
creditable execution. 

On the following day we did nothing but ramble 
about, alone, over every quarter of the city. When 
the cravings of appetite admonished us of the hour 
for dinner, we would step into a restaurat, satisfy its 
clamorous calls, and resume again our solitary pere- 
grinations, with ears ready to hear and eyes on the 
look out to see whatever might cross our path. The 
close of the day found us again at the Cascine, and 
night had come on ere we commenced our hotel-ward 
return. Keeping immediately on the bank of the 
river, we came to the Suspension Bridge, and con- 
cluding we would like to explore the region on the 
other side the Arno, we crossed over, and was just 
on the point of stepping again on " Terra Firma," 
when the custode popped his head out from a little 
cuddy-hole to the left, and demanded the usual toll of 
three quatrini. Now it so happened that we had not 
a single quatrine in our purse, and so could not pay 
the sum required. But we were unwilling to go 
back — knowing, too, that by so doing w^e should have 
twice crossed the, bridge wdthout toll — and so taking 
out our empty porte-monnaie, and clapping our hand 
upon it that the custode might be witness to the hol- 
low sound, we started off. The merry keeper '4et us 
rip," laboring though, we verily believe, under the 
impression that we would return again that way, and 
then pay the double toll. But it was now quite 



188 Memokies oyer the Water. 

dark, and as we fumbled along, all alone, through the 
narrow, obscure streets, among the dark-browed 
Florentines, we buttoned up our coat, and kept a 
sharp look out for the stiletto. We were not, how- 
ever, molested in our course, and a short while after, 
we had found one of the city gates, through, which 
we were glad to enter, and soon we had reached our 
room. 

One of the most striking features of Florence is the 
frequent procession of men, which the stranger meets, 
all dressed in long dominoes, with their forms and 
features perfectly concealed, and bearing with them 
some sick and suffering mortal to the charity hospital. 
We were told that these men were members of a 
society, composed of the first rank in Florence, with 
the Grand Duke himself at their head, and whose 
object was to alleviate the sufferings of humanity — 
to visit the sick, to provide for the poor, and to bury 
the penniless dead. This they are required to do 
under cloak and mask, that their charity be unknown 
and unvaunted. A beautiful idea we thought it was, 
and an honorable comment upon the city, that these 
noble and high-born families should thus perform 
their deeds of goodness, closely following the admo- 
nition of Him, who hath said — '' Let not thy right- 
hand know what thy left-hand doeth." 

On the day following we took a run through the 
Imperial Gallery, famous for its rare sculpture ; and 
whom should we meet in the tribune but our friend 



Memories over the Water. 189 

R. W. McGavock, of Nashville, gazing on the Venus 
di Medici. We were of course delighted to greet 
again his familiar face, and together we made the 
tour of the galleries. What treasures of art does that 
little room contain I whichever way you turn, some 
immortal creation greets your eye. Every picture is 
a gem, and every piece of marble famous. The dis- 
puted Knife-grinder stoops lifelike by the side of the 
goddess of Love ; the intricate contortion of the 
Wrestlers contrasts well with the joyful abandonment 
of the Dancing Fawn, while the god of music closes 
the circle of exclusives. There is also here a fine 
copy of the group of Laocoon and his sons. The 
Priest of Apollo had dared to hurl his iron spear into 
the side of the wooden horse, and the patriotic father 
and devoted sons paid the penalty by their death. 
"Timeo Danaos etiam dona ferentes!'^ Among the 
more noted paintings are the Virgin of Angelo; 
Mobe and her children ; the Mercury of John of 
Bologna ; the Head of Medusa, by the gloomy pencil 
of Caravazzio; and the blue-hooded Magdalene, of 
Sassafarato. The face of the Medusa, with her 
matted locks of livid, gory reptiles, is "horribly 
beautiful" — a mutilated fright — that, by the fair 
countenance of the sainted Madonna, looks like 
heaven and hell contrasted. Having completed the 
survey of the galleries, we returned with Mr. 
McGavock to ''Hotel de York," where we found our 
friends, Mr. Edward H. Ewing, of Nashville; James 



190 Memories over the Water. 

Price, of Lebanon; and Johnstone, of South Caro- 
lina; not forgetting, either, the Knight of the Razor, 
Frank Parrish. It was our purpose, on reaching 
Florence, to rest about a month within the walls ; 
but our newly-found friends proposing that we should 
accompany them down to the '^ Eternal City," our 
stay in the Tuscan capital was cut short. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



Among the most prominent objects of interest in 
Florence are the Museum and the Pitti Palace. The 
former is one of the most extensive and well-arranged 
establishments of the kind in Europe, containing, 
among a thousand other attractions, the astronomical 
apparatus of Galileo. The wax-gallery is gotten up 
on a most magnificent scale. The plagues of Florence 
and Milan, especially, attract attention for the truthful- 
ness of their representation. The execution is most 
excellent, but the horrible scenes presented to the 
eye, nauseate the very soul with their loathsome 
sights. The anatomical department is most perfect 
and complete. The medical student might there 
learn, in one day, more of the construction of the 
human frame, than by six months of diligent study 
in his office. Not a bone, nor a vein, nor a single 
fiber is there in "this mortal coil" that does not 
find there its perfect counterpart. But Florence is 
the Paradise of loafers. The English, especially, 
make this their refuge in time of pecuniary or politi- 
cal distress ; and many of them, bankrupt in purse 
and reputation, find this an asylum from a home 
persecution. Living in Florence is proverbially cheap, 

(191) 



192 Memories ovejr the Water. 

and many an English nobleman, of the '' shabby- 
genteel " rank, who, in his own country, could hardly 
support the semblance of his position, here m.oves in 
lordly style. A palace may be rented, and dashing 
equipages, with liveried servants, be had for what 
in England would hardly suffice for the necessities of 
life. Then, as we have observed, Florence is the 
Paradise for loafers. The routine of daily amuse- 
ments is more varied, and at the same time less 
expensive, than at any other place in the world. The 
toilet having been leisurely accomplished in the morn- 
ing you may pass over to Doney's, and breakfast 
upon eggs, coffee, and delicious bread and butter, for 
which you pay one paul — about ten cents. Then a 
ramble through the Imperial Gallery will fatigue you 
just enough to make you relish an ice or a lemonade, 
which will cost only half a paul. You may then 
pass over the Arno, and walking unquestioned into 
the Pitti Palace, sink into a soft, cushioned seat, and 
gaze upon the Madonna de Seggiola of Eaphael, or 
the Virgin of Murillo. One turn of the head, and 
the lovely, guileless, glorious Judith of Allori stands 
before you, with a strange contrast exhibited in the 
cruel clutch of her fingers in the gory, matted hair of 
the fallen warrior, and the soft, womanly beauty of 
her dark eyes and full, warm lips. In the next room 
you will find the death-scene of Cleopatra, and for the 
moment you will forgive the infatuation, which lost 
a world to the victim of Egypt's queen ; but turning 
thence to the ''Sister Fates" of Angelo, and the 



Memories oyer the Water. 193 

gloomy, dark-browed " Conspirators " of Salvator 
Rosa, that fond weakness will give way to a sterner 
mood, as you gaze upon the inexorable calmness, and 
the cold inhumanity depicted upon every feature of 
those withered old women ; and upon the unrelenting 
purpose of the arch conspirator, Cataline. But when 
your eye grows weary of the canvass, pass through 
these priceless halls of painting, and view the Yenus 
of Canova. She is a shade larger than the Yenus di 
Medici, and the marble from which she is wrought is 
slightly defective ; but yet she is 

"All that ideal beauty ever blessed 
The mind with." 

But, perhaps, you are now content with the sight of 
gorgeous halls, glowing with sculpture and painting. 
If so, and you would wish to separate true beauty from 
the trappings of wealth, then call at the studio of our 
gifted countryman, Hiram Powers, and see there such 
genius as will not shrink from comparison with that 
of the immortal Greek. His productions most properly 
rank among the choicest pieces of modern sculpture. 
In the words of another — " without having that clas- 
sical severity of the ancient ideal, they have all their 
beauty, and just enough of earth to keep them out of 
heaven." 

But by this it is time for dinner ; after which you 
either have a drive down to the Oascine with the 
Florentine fashionables, or else enjoy a quiet stroll 
through tlie Boboli Gardens. By this time the sun is 
set, and the theaters open. The hours of poetry begin, 
16 



194 Memories oyer the Water. 

and yon sink into sleep that night with the notes of 
" II Bravo " or " Torquato Basso '' mnrmuring in your 
ear. Thus closes a day in Florence. 

But, of a truth, Florence is a fair place to dwell in. 
The galleries and public places are thrown open at all 
times free of expense, and free of annoyance. The 
liberty of the press can hardly be called restricted, 
and an enlightened policy marks the present rule of 
Tuscany. The soldiers are few and civil ; the people 
loyal and contented ; for the Grand Duke is liberal 
and loves his subjects. There is an absence of exor- 
bitant taxation, and consequently an abundance, a 
cheapness, an excellence of almost everything. Beside 
this Florence is now the home of the Fine Arts, where 
many of our own painters and sculptors resort for the 
advantages it affords. Then, too, its history has been 
one, around which the charm of romance and poetry 
is thrown. In perilous enterprises; in deeds of daring 
and endurance; in adventures of love and war, 
Florence stands, almost, without a rival. But now it 
is a sweet and gentle place ; quite different from the 
turbulent city it once was, when Guelf and Ghibelline 
warred the one against the other, and dyed the ducal 
threshold with fraternal blood. In the peaceful 
loungers along the Cascine you would hardly recog- 
nize the descendants of that restless democracy whose 
law was vengeance, and whose liberty was license ; 
nor in the fair administration of the present govern- 
ment would you dream that the idiotic sway of the 
bastard Medici was once observed and respected. 



Memories over the Water. 195 

But our companions are anxious to resume their 
travels, and we bid a reluctant adieu to the fair city 
of Florence. We are consoled only with the reflec- 
tion that we are journeying toward the "eternal city," 
and that within a few days more we shall stand upon 
her "seven hills," and view with our own eyes the 
scene of former greatness, grandeur, glory, power. 
Our company consisted of seven persons, and we 
traveled by "Vetturino." That is, we engaged a 
private conveyance, and bargained with the driver 
that, for a certain sum, he should take us, by such a 
route and in so many days, from Florence to Eome. 
This is much the most pleasant and cheapest mode of 
traveling in Italy. The greater portion of the country 
through which we passed the first day was abundant 
in beautiful scenery. We went skirting along the 
base of the lowland Apennines, and reached Arezzo 
about nightfall, having come a distance of about 
forty miles. We did not stop to see the frame of the 
man, inclosed in the brick wall, so minutely and 
so touchingly described by the American author, 
Headley. Arezzo is famous as the scene of many 
eventful struggles of the middle ages. Here w^ere, 
also, born Maecenas, Petrarch, and other men of 
ancient renown. Early on the following morning we 
were again on our waj^, wending along the left side of 
the fertile valley of Chiana. About noon we reached 
the village of Gamuscia. Here we rested a few hours, 
and w^hile dinner was in course of preparation, we 
made an excursion afoot, up the side of the mountain. 



196 Memories over the Water. 

to the old town of Crotona. Our guide f.rst led us to 
the reputed grave of Pythagoras; a little green 
hillock, with a few loose stones, lying without the city 
walls. We bore away a flower as a memento. Next 
we entered the old Etruscan city, and proceeded first 
to the cathedral, where we saw the sarcophagus of the 
consul riaminius. We then explored the museum, 
under the guidance of a long-robed priest, and found 
nothing worthy of note within it, excepting, perhaps, 
its famous old bronze lamp, that was dug up by 
somebody somewhere, some long time ago. From 
Cortona we had a deli2:htful view of lake Thrasimene 
and its battle-field, of the valley of Chiana, and several 
spurs of the blue and misty Apennines. As we came 
out of the gates of the city we caught a glimpse of a 
beautiful girl, looking out from her window\ She 
had espied our party of Americans, and being con- 
scious of the beauty of her fair face, she graciously 
smiled upon us as we passed. Dinner over we again 
resumed our route, now bordering along the left shore 
of the poetic lake, Thrasimene, whose sheeted waters 
were sleeping calmly in the golden sunshine of 
autumnal beauty. We passed immediately over the 
battle-ground, where Flaminius and his Roman cohorts 
went down under the charging squadrons of the victo- 
rious Hannibal. 

" I roam by Thrasimene's lake, in the defiles 
Fatal to Roman rashness, more at home ; 
For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles 
Come back before me, as his skill beguiles 



Memories oyer the Water. 197 

The host between the mountain and the shore. 

Where courage falls in her despairing files. 

And torrents, swollen to rivers with their gore. 

Reek through the sultry plain, with legions scattered o'er." 

Reached Passignano and rested for the night. 

While at Camuscia, our merry friend P , having 

been challenged by the wager of his expenses down to 
Eome, by the patriarch of onr party, to kiss the bar- 
maid before leaving the hotel, accepted the challenge, 
and vowed that we should see him win the wager 
before leaving the dining-hall. The unsuspecting 
Susannah soon came in, and was busily engaged in 

removing dishes, plates, etc., when friend P , 

with a merry twinkle in his eye, and his jovial face 
beaming with a dare-devil humor, suddenly slipped 
up behind this nymph of the kitchen, and throwing 
both arms around her neck, imprinted a kiss upon her 
rosy cheek, that sounded like the echo of a sixty-four 
pounder. A w^ould-be indignation followed this ex- 
plosive expression of his admiration, which, however, 
soon yielded to the burst of merriment that rose from 
our party, on witnessing the successful achievement. 

Did you ever tell your young wife, P , of that 

adventure? 



CHAPTER XXXI, 



On leaving Passignano, we soon after passed 
through the curious old city of Perugia. The next 
object of interest on our route was the '' Grotto di 
Volunni," called the largest and most beautiful in 
Etruria. These grottoes, it will be remembered, are 
the depositories of the ashes of the old Romans, and 
to the antiquary are exceedingly interesting. They 
are generally excavated out of the earth, and you 
descend into them by a flight of stone steps. The 
Volunni Grotto we found composed of many dark 
and vaulted chambers, replete with cinerary urns, 
Gorgon heads, iron serpents, and Etruscan inscrip- 
tions. We had now reached the valley of the '' Yellow 
Tiber," and erelong passed over the famous river by 
means of a handsome stone bridge. Separate from 
its historic and poetic associations, we thought the 
Tiber a very insignificant and ugly stream, not so 
large nor by any means so beautiful as the Cumberland. 
We next passed by the picturesque city of Assissi, 
pitched upon the mountain side to our left, and 
reached Foligno that evening about dusk. Here we 
were delighted to find a clean and comfortable hotel. 

On the following morning we entered upon the 
(198) 



Memories over the Water. 199 

'' Via Flaminia," and followed its course throughout 
the day. "We passed through the classic valley of 
Clitumnus, of which Yirgil had thus discoursed to 
us in our school-boy days — 

" Hinc albi, Clitumne, greges, et maxima taurus 
Victima, ssepe tuo perfusi flu mine sacro, 
Romanes ad templa deum duxere triumphos." 

Next we saw the fair town of Trevi, seated on the 
mountain side, its white-walled houses glittering 
under the rays of the rising sun. Then came the 
pretty little temple, dedicated to the river-god of 
Clitumnus, whose clear and crystal waters rise from 
the green meadows about this building. This temple, 
some say, was the Trebia of Pliny, and is thus de- 
scribed by Byron in his Childe Harold — 

'' But thou, Clitumne, in thy sweetest wave 
Of the most living crystal that was e'er 
The haunt of river-nymph, to gaze and lave 
Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost rear 
Thy grassy banks, whereon the milk-white steer 
Grazes ; the purest god of gentle waters ! 
And most serene of aspect and most clear ; 
Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters — 
A mirror and a bath for Beauty's youngest daughters. 
And on thy happy shore a temple still, 
Of small and delicate proportions, keeps, 
Upon a mild declivity of hill. 
Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweeps 
Thy current's calmness ; oft from out it leaps 
The finny darter, with the glittering scales, 
Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps ; 
While chance some scatter'd water-lily sails 
Down where the shallower wave, still tells its bubbling tales.'* 



200 Memories over the Water. 

Having left our names inscribed upon this object of 
Byron's especial admiration, we left the fair little 
temple ; and erelong reached the town of Spoleto, 
somewhat famous for its woolen manufactures. We 
stopped for a few hours at the ^' Hotel La Posta," 
and climbed up the steep hill opposite to the citadel, 
which commands one of the most extensive views in 
Italy, embracing in its compass the valley Clitumnus, 
the Apennines, and the cities of Perugia, Foligno and 
Assissi. Across the very narrow and very deep 
ravine is thrown the Aqueduct — a stupendous work, 
which serves the double purpose of water conductor 
and bridge. It is built upon ten arches of brick, 
its height is 243 feet, and its length 615 feet. 
We observed that the windows of the citadel were 
filled with prisoners, some for moral and some for 
political offenses. 

Bills all settled we were again en route^ winding 
over the steep ascent of Monte Sommia, whose sum- 
mit is 3738 feet above the level of the sea. Along 
the road-side grew in great profusion the wild ilex, 
which was in many places planted and trimmed into 
beautiful hedges. Our descent presented some magni- 
ficent views, as we wound along down the mountain 
road, with the lofty hills on either hand, and before 
us a soft, dim, and blue-tinted vista, with a valley as 
fair as the one inhabited by the discontented Easselas. 
That night we reached Terni, and on the morning 
following we were up bright and early, and off to see 
the famous ''Falls of Terni," having for our guide 



Memories ovek the "Water. 201 

Michael Angelo, as celebrated among travelers in 
Italy as the renowned Stephen among the visitors 
to the Mammoth Cave. We passed along a roman- 
tic pathway, shaded on each side by groves of ilex, 
and bordering on the rapids below. In our course 
we passed the Villa Graziani, the residence of Queen 
Caroline, when Princess of Wales. The scenery all 
along this wild valley is exceedingly beautiful, anjd 
to one, who is fond of the sketch-book, affords a fine 
field for the exercise of his pencil. About five miles 
from the village we came upon the Falls. We first 
climbed the tortuous pathway on the left of the Yelino, 
and from the little arbor on the mountain side had 
the best view of the falling water. It must have 
been here that Byron stood, when he felt the inspi- 
ration of his glorious description. We thought the 
falls exquisitely beautiful, and only w^ished as we 
paused to read from Childe Harold the following 
lines, that he, who could pen such glowing thoughts, 
might have seen and described the might and majesty 
of Niagara — 

"The roar of waters ! from the headlong height 
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice, 
The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
The flashing mass foams shaking the abjss ; 
The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss ; 
And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat 
Of their great agony, wrung out from this 
Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet. 
That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set. 
And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again 
Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, 

17 



202 Memories over the Water. 

With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain. 
Is an eternal April to the ground. 
Making it all one emerald : — ^how profound 
The gulf ! and how the giant element 
From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound. 
Crushing the cliffs, which downward worn and rent 
With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent 
To the broad column which rolls on, and shows 
More like the fountain of an infant sea, 
• Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes 

Of a new world, than only thus to be 
Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly. 
With many windings, through the vale — ^look back I 
Lo ! where it comes like an eternity. 
As if to sweep all things in its track. 
Charming the eye with dread, the matchless cataract. 
Horribly beautiful ! But on the verge. 
From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, 
An Iris sits amidst the infernal surge, 
Like hope upon a death-bed, and unworn 
Its steady dyes, while all around is torn 
By the distracted waters, bears serene 
Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn ; — 
Resembling mid the torture of the scene. 
Love watching Madness with unalterable mien." 

Having satisfied ourselves with the falls we now 
returned to the village. Terni we found to b6 a 
thriving little place, where they manufacture prin- 
cipally silken and woolen goods, and contains a popu- 
lation of some 9,000 souls. It boasts itself the birth- 
place of Tacitus the historian, Tacitus the emperor, 
and Florian the emperor. Many travelers make it 
a point to tarry awhile at Terni, and thence make 
excursions about in its neighborhood. As a curious 



Memories over the Water. 203 

instance we remembered that our friend Johnstone, 
on looking over the register of the Hotel, found there 
the names of his father, his mother and himself, 
dated in the year 1837. He was at that time a mere 
child and in company with his parents was making 
the tour of Europe. He purchased the leaf of the 
book for a paul, and took it as a memento of Terni. 
About one o'clock we were again on our way, and a 
ride of some two hours brought us to Narni, which is 
most beautifully situated. From the village we went 
into the valley to have a look at the "Bridge of 
Augustus," which we found to be a magnificent old 
ruin. One of its massive and well built arches w^as 
still standing entire, a grim old monument to its ancient 
architect. This vast work of marble masonry was 
built by Augustus to allow the Flaminian way a pas- 
sage over the river Nar, whose narrow valley it here 
spanned at an immense height over the rushing waters 

below. McG , here had in tow a good-natured 

Italian youth as a guide, and took great delight in 
making him dance and turn somersets — for which 
the promise of a few coppers was ample inducement. 
One of the first things which strikes the American 
traveler in Italy is the bleak and desolate appearance 
of its villages. They look the very picture of a man- 
abandoned, God-forsaken wreck, and the few mise- 
rable wretches who crawl through their cold and 
gloomy streets, seem the last lingering remnant of 
wasting humanity. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

From the village of Narni we proceeded along a 
beautiful road, passing through the town of Otricoli, 
and again crossing the Tiber by a bridge, built in the 
time of Augustus. Immediately after we entered the 
village of Borghetto, with its moldering old fortress, 
while on our left lay the level plain on which the gal- 
lant McDonald so completely routed the Neapolitan 
army, under Mack the Incapable, whose force thrice 
numbered that of the French Marshal. Monte Soracte 
now began to form a very prominent object of 
interest along the wayside, its craggy sides towering 
abruptly up from out the plain on our left. This 
mountain has a name upon the pages of both ancient 
and modern poetry. 

" Vides "ut alta stet nive candidum 
Soracte." — Horace. 

Also — 

^' The lone Soracte^s heights displayed, 
IS'ot now in snow, which asks the lyric Romanes aid 
For our remembrance, and from out the plain 
Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break. 
And on the curl hangs pausing." — Childe Harold. 

Next we came to Civita Castellana, crossing over a 

bridge one hundred and twenty feet above the bottom 
^204) 



Memories over the Water. 205 

of the ravine. This town contains a population of 
some two thousand eight hundred inhabitants, a fine 
fortress, and some interesting remains of the old 
Etruscan architecture. It was fired by the French, 
in 1799, and nearly reduced to ruins. Then came the 
hotel of '^Le Sette Vene," where we rested for the 
night, and within twenty-two miles of Rome. Left 
on the following morning, about sunrise, all impatient 
for the first glimpse of the Eternal City. Between 
Baccano and La Storta, from an elevated point, we 
caught sight of the dome of St. Peter's 

*' Oh ! Rome ! my country ! city of tlie soul ! 
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 
Lone mother of dead empires ! and control 
In their shut breasts their petty misery. 
What are our "woes and sufferance ? Come and see 
The cypress, hear the owl and plod your way 
O'er steps of broken thrones and temples ! Ye 
Whose agonies are evils of a day, 
A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 
The JSTiobe of nations ! There she stands 
Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe ; 
An empty urn within her withered hands. 
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago." 

Again crossing the Tiber, by the " Ponte Molle," 
built upon the foundation of the ancient ''Pons 
Milvius," w^e proceeded onward, and soon reached 
the '' Porta del Popolo." Here our passports were 
surrendered into the hands of the villainous officials ; 
but a bribe of ten pauls freed us from an examination 
of baggage at the Dogana. We had entered the city 



206 Memories over the Water. 

walls, and were in Rome, that city whereon time has 
showered down its ages, but which yet stands, though 
only a shattered shell, a wasted wreck riven from the 
glories of the past. Up to this time w^e had enjoyed 
the balmy air, the blue skies, and blushing fields 
of Italy. But now a change had come over the face 
of nature, and nothing but cloud and rain, filthy 
streets, and dingy buildings greeted our advent to the 
Seven-hilled City. We first procured rooms at the 
"Hotel d'Europe," but on the next day moved our 
quarters to '' Hotel d'Angleterre." 

Our first adventure in Eome was of rather an 
amusing character, in fact not at all suited to the 
dignity nor to the poetr}^ of this Queen of the Past. 
But to the adventure. On Saturday morning, Novem- 
ber 1st, we went to the Sistine Chapel, to see the Pope 
celebrate Mass. We soon reached the Vatican, and 
mounting the long flight of gradually-ascending steps, 
we stood with a considerable crowd, in the anteroom, 
awaiting the opening of the doors of the chapel. 
Now we had heard it said, that without a dress-coat, 
no one would be permitted to enter the chapel on this 
occasion. But our wardrobe at the time did not boast 
a dress-coat, and it was with some misgivings that we 
looked upon the many swallow-tails that surrounded 
our unassuming frock. Instead, too, of imitating the 
device of some others, w4iom w^e saw, of pinning up 
the corners of the frock into the cut of the dress-coat, 
we vej'y honestly hung out our true colors, determined 
to efiect an entrance, if the expression of an outward 



Memories over the Water. 207 

assurance would accomplish it. At length the Swiss 
Body-Guard, rigged out like a company of harlequins 
in their colors and stripes, and armed with swords 
and long pikes, marched in and took their respective 
stations, as sentinels, assigned them by the officer in 
command. The doors were now thrown open, and 
the crowd began to push in. We would not, how- 
ever, seem very solicitous, and so quietly followed on 
behind, with the utmost nonchalance that we could 
assume. But, alas ! as we put our foot upon the 
threshold of the door, our course was suddenly 
arrested, and our gravity totally upset, by one of 
the sturdy sentinels opposing our further progress, 
and accounting for the rudeness of his conduct by the 
simple repetion of — ''Habito! habito!" pointing at 
the same time to our unfortunate frock. Now friend 
Price was also along, and in the same predicament 
with ourself ; but by tucking his coat-tail, and keep- 
ing in the center of the crowd, he had managed very 
adroitly to smuggle himself in, under cover of the 
rush, w^hile we, for our independence, were turned 
back. Nothing daunted, however, we went below; 
borrowed a pin from one of the guard, who chuckled 
at the idea of the cheat, and even assisted us in 
making the metamorphose, and returned with our 
counterfeit coat-tail to make a second trial. But we 
did not now have the advantage of the crowd, and 
beside,* our perseverance at the first had attracted the 
guard's attention to our person, and so our disguise 
was forthwith detected, and the wretch obstinately 



208 Memories over the Water. 

persisted in refusing us entrance thus sailing under 
false colors. We now began to think our chances for 
seeing the Pope that day rather meager ; but were 
still determined to go in, if artifice could do what 
honesty had failed in. Just at this time a stranger 
came along with a dress-coat, but having a walking- 
cane in his hand. This latter was also a contraband 
article, and the gnard rushed after its possessor with 
the purpose of turning him back. Now, thought we, 
is the time for a bold move ; and immediately acting 
upon the suggestion, we glided softly in behind the 
sentinel, in pursuit of the man with the cane. But 
the fates seemed against us ; we were again foiled, 
and both the stranger and ourself were brought back 
to the door by the impervious sentinel, who would 
not be moved either by love or money, and who was 
now waxing wroth at our obstinate encroachments. 
We had now almost despaired ; both fair means and 
foul had been tried without avail ; nothing but the 
swallow-tail would do, and that we did not have. 
But just at this crisis of affairs, a kind-hearted priest 
who was standing by, and who had been witness to 
our several shifts, stepped in and spoke to the Captain 
of the Guard. This was all-sufficient. The courteous 
soldier immediately came out, and taking us under 
his wing, the frock-tail passed triumphantly through. 
A blessing, say we, on the head of that kind priest, 
and worthy captain. 

Being now fairly entered, we took our seat, and 
awaited with some impatience the entrance of Pius 



Memories oyer the Water. 209 

IX. One by one the gray-headed and decrepid car- 
dinals came dropping in, with their red silk caps 
upon their white locks, and followed by two or three 
train-bearers to hold up their long and flowing red 
robes. Finally about twenty of these goodly veterans 
had assembled, as also a number of English and 
American spectators, a few ladies, several foreigit 
ambassadors with their attaches, and a small sprink- 
ling of the French soldiery. 

The Sistine Chapel is not at all striking in its 
appearance, being quite small, and by no means so 
rich in its internal ornaments as we had been led to 
suppose. After patiently waiting for about one hour, 
the choir suddenly struck up, and the Pope, entering 
by a side-door to the right, marched slowly out before 
the altar, and meekly bowing as he passed, kept on 
his way, and took his seat under a silken canopy on 
the left. Here he received the cardinals, who one by 
one approaching, had the honor of kissing — not his 
toe — but his covered hand. The choir still continued 
its chanting ; and occasionally the peculiar voice of 
the eunuch might be distinguished, rising in clear 
mellow tones above the swell of the deep-toned organ. 
At times one of the priests would respond, while 
now and then the Pope himself would rise from his 
seat — when a couple of cardinals would elevate the 
pontifical bonnet — and muttering a few words in 
Latin sit down again. Meanwhile the incense was 
being burned until the whole room was filled with its 
fragrance. During the celebration a young man, 



210 Memories oyer the Water. 

dressed somewhat differently from the rest, and who, 
we were told, was a Roman noble, arose from his 
seat and made an address to his Holiness, standing 
with his cap on. We could not comprehend what 
was said ; but the gesture of the young orator was 
very good, and his delivery firm and graceful. But 
at last the ceremony was concluded, and we were 
glad to escape, making our way from the Sistine 
Chapel into the Church of St. Peter. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



On the morDing of the second day of November, 
1851, we started out from our hotel, and made our 
way along the Corso up to the Coliseum. We 
were, indeed, in Rome — that one thought was ever 
crowding on our mind, and with the poet we were 
wont to say: 

And I am there ! 

Oh ! little thought I, when in school I sat, 

A school-boy on his bench, at early dawn, 

Glowing with Roman story, I should live 

To tread the Appian, once an avenue. 

Of monuments most glorious, palaces. 

Their doors sealed up and silent as the night — 

The dwellings of the illustrious dead. 

The Corso, so called from the races that are run 
upon it, is the principal street in Rome, running 
directly through the city, leading from the Capitoline 
Hill or thereabouts, down to the Piazza del Popolo. 
During the carnival a company of horses, unbridled 
and unbacked, are started from the Capitoline, and 
made to run to the Piazza, amid the clattering of tin 
pans and infernal yells, going at break-neck speed 
through the entire length of the city. Proceeding up 

(211) 



212 Memokies over the Water. 

this street, we came first to the ''Basilica of Con- 
stantine," with its heavy, towering arches of brick; 
the old ruin now converted into a hay-market. A 
shower of rain coming up we sought shelter under 
the walls of the old Roman Amphitheater. Yes ! we 
stood within that arena, on which have been enacted 
scenes of horror and immortal courage. We have 
stood there under the broad blaze of the noon-day 
sun, and in the calm hour of the silent night. The 
moon shone down on the mighty ruin, as we strolled 
under the far-reaching shadows, pouring a flood of 
silver light through the craggy windows, and silence 
sat like a mantle on the scene, broken only by the 
challenge of the soldier on guard, or by the hooting 
of the owl upon the Palatine. Yes ! night and soli- 
tude are the fit trappings of decaying splendor. At 
such a time the Coliseum encircles you like some vast, 
unearthly thing, one sees in dreams. Up, up to 
the very heavens, rise the dark remnants of its 
Titanic form. The black depths of its arches ; the 
shadowy outline of its lofty walls ; the solitude of its 
myriad seats ; the sight of the cold stars above ; the 
huge ruin around — all conspire to impress the mind 
that 

While stands the Coliseum Rome shall stand ! 
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall ! 
And when Rome falls — the world ! 

But what a tumult of thoughts come rushing on 
the mind as one stands upon the sandy arena of the 
Coliseum ; where the godlike martyr hath died, 



Memories OVER the Water. 213 

because he would not deny his faith ; where woman, 
frail and fickle woman, hath unflinchingly met the 
fagot and the wild beast, rather than surrender 
her hope of heaven ; where the daring gladiator 
hath drooped his dying head ; his immortal spirit 
sent a victim to the cruel pleasures of a barbarous 
age, and where the wild denizen of the forest, 
foaming with rage and famished with hunger, hath 
plunged to meet the keen steel of his brave and 
active combatant, weltering the ground with his 
gore. 

How mournful, yet how beautiful, does the spirit of 
Byron haunt, with its imperishable verse, this city of 
the soul. There is scarcely a ruin, tomb or temple to 
which his genius has not given a deeper charm. The 
voice of Manfred speaks in the sepulchral moonlight 
of the Coliseum, and the wandering Harold muses 
over the melancholy destiny of earthly glory in the 
Palace of the Caesars ; here, in this solemn scene of a 
whole country's desolation, his own passion and his 
faults are dumb, and in all the beauty of a holy 
calling he lays the ofiering of his inspiration and his 
sorrow on a nation's urn. If the errors of a way- 
ward disposition, and the abuse of high talents may 
be atoned for, this might, alone, obtain it. So we 
thought, at least, as we stood, by night, and looking 
on the Coliseum, thought on these lines : 

I do remember me, that in my youth. 
When I was "wandering^ — upon such a night, 
I stood within the Coliseum's walls. 



214 Memories . over the Water. 

Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; 
The trees, which grew along the broken arches, 
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars 
Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar 
The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber, and 
More near, from out the Cassar's Palace came 
The owl's long cry, and interruptedly. 
Of distant sentinels the fitful song 
Began and died upon the distant wind. 

According to the data of history, the amphitheater 
was founded by Vespasian, A. D. 72, and completed 
by Titus, A. D. 80. At its dedication five thousand 
wild beasts were slain in the arena. In its perfect 
state it was capable of seating eighty-seven thousand 
spectators. From the Coliseum we next went to the 
old Roman Forum : 

The forum, where the immortal accents glow — 

And still the eloquent air breathes, burns with Cicero. 

Excavations were, at the time, being made upon the 
old site of the Forum, and many objects of interest 
had been revealed within the past few years. Tri- 
umphal arches and scattered groups of marble pillars 
stood now about us ; memorials, sad and silent, of 
the days that have passed. Next we visited the Chapel, 
built upon the site of the prison, where, according to 
the tradition, St. Peter and St. Paul were confined. 
While in this consecrated building Col. Kimmel, of 
Baltimore — the Pickwick of our party — had his 
pocket picked of his handkerchief, and the humorous 
laments he made on losing such an article in such a 
place, caused us to laugh until our sides ached. 



Memories over tpie Water. 215 

Ascending to the summit of the Oapitoline we saw 
the '' Senator of Rome " as he came out of his Palace 
to get into his carriage. His coach, like those 
of the Cardinals and other high officers in Rome, 
was exceedingly gaudy, with fancifully-dressed driver 
and footman. Two other carriages containing his 
attaches, generally follow the coach of his excellency. 

On the following day we set out on a systematic 
survey of what is yet left of the once glorious 
inheritance of Rome. First we saw the Church of 
Santa Maria del Popolo, where is the tomb of the 
Princess Odescalchi. A well-executed marble lion 
is represented as looking up at an eagle perched 
up in a bronze tree above his head, while a long 
mantle of porphyry sweeps in heavy folds down 
to its base. There is, also, here a horrible image of 
death. 

Standing in front of the obelisk, in the center of 
the " Piazza del Popolo,'' and looking up toward the 
city, you face the Corso, which is flanked on the right 
by the Ripetta, and on the left by the Babuino — three 
of the principal streets in Rome, all of which termi- 
nate, as the radii of a circle, in the Piazza del Popolo. 
On the left rises the Pincian Hill, the favorite drive 
and promenade of the modern Romans. 

Went now to the studio of Canova, then occupied 
by one of his pupils. Saw here some beautiful sculp- 
tures ; especially an Eve, standing in an attitude of 
sorrow and remorse, while the bitten apple lies at her 
feet, and the conquering serpent is coiled around a 



216 Memories over the Water. 

tree at her side. Also, a very pretty little group, 
called, Time Lost. It represents a little boy, of white 
marble, busily and wonderingly engaged in the 
endeavor to wash away the sooty color of a young 
African's face. Went into the Church of '' San 
Lorenzo, in Lucina," to see the celebrated Crucifixion 
by Guido Eeni. As we entered the Priest w^as per- 
forming service, and the painting was vailed ; yet a 
few coppers from our "valet de place" sufficed to 
remove the curtain, and we had a fair view of the 
famous picture. We could not discover any extraor- 
dinary beanty in the work, and would not ape an 
admiration that we could not feel, simply because 
the painting was a celebrated one. Went next to 
Monte Citerio— a fine Piazza. Saw there the solar 
obelisk, erected at Helipolis by Psammeticus the first, 
king of Egypt, and brought to Rome and placed in 
the Campus Martins, by Augustus. Saw the old 
temple of Antoninus, with its eleven Corinthian 
columns, serving as a front to the present custom- 
house. Went into several other churches; amono; 
them " Santa Maria in Yia Lata," supposed to be 
built on the spot once occupied by the house in which 
St. Paul lived ; also, the Church of St. Mark, where 
the body of the Evangelist is deposited; also, the 
Pantheon — "Pride of Rome-' — built by Marcus 
Agrippa, A. D. 26. This famous building has passed 
from the Pagan to the Christian worship, and stands 
one of the most wonderful monuments of antiquity. 
Its vast dome is its chief attraction. Next we 



Memories over the Water. 217 

ascended the Capitoline Hill. The Piazza is orna- 
mented with a fine fountain, with colossal statues, in a 
recumbent position on either hand, allegorical represen- 
tations of the Nile and the Tiber. In the center is the 
bronze equestrian statue of Marcus xlurelius, acknowl- 
edged to be the best piece of bronze workmanship 
in the world. On the balustrade, at the top of the 
steps leading to the Piazza, are colossal statues 
of Castor and Pollux, Yerj old and somewhat shat- 
tered. On the right-hand you have the Senatorial 
Palace, in front the Tower, and on the left the 
Museum. In the Palace we saw the bronze wolf, 
suckling Eomulus and Remus, alluded to by Byron 
in Childe Harold. The Palace contains, also, many 
fine frescoes, representing eventful eras in the history 
of the Empire. Also, went over to the Museum. 
In the court-yard, beside a little fountain, reclines 
the somber statue of old Ocean. At the foot of 
the stairs is the statue of Mars,. colossal and striking 
in its proportions, and rich in its elaborately -carved 
accouterments. Among myriad other interesting 
objects that the Museum contains, we may mention 
the Capitoline Yenus, Pliny's Doves, Lseda and 
the Swan, Cupid and Psyche, antique Sarcophagi, 
Antinous, busts and vases innumerable, and, finally, 
the statue of the Dying Gladiator. Of all the sculp- 
ture we have ever seen we give the palm to this 
immortal piece. Byron has again, over this statue, 
shed the light of his genius : 
18 



218 Memories oyer the Water. 

I see before me the gladiator lie ; 
He leans upon his hand — his manly brow 
Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
And his drooped head sinks gradually low — 
And through his side the last drops — ebbing slow 
From the red gash — fall heavy one by one. 
Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
The arena swims around him — he is gone. 
Ere ceased the inhuman shout, which hail'd the wretch 
who won. 



CHAPTER XXXIV, 



The Tarpeian Eock we found situated in the rear 
of a small garden on the Capitoline Hill. Its height 
is by no means so great, as the dreamer in classic 
shades would probably imagine. Sam Patch would 
laugh at such a leap. But there is pointed out the 
famous spot — 

The steep Tai'peian, fittest goal of Treason's race. 

The Promontory whence the Traitor's leap, cured all ambition. 

Next we ascended the Tower of the Capitol, and had 
an excellent view of both ancient and modern Pome. 
We had the seven hills here pointed out to us by name; 
they are not easily distinguished: our "Capitoline" 
surpasses them all in point of size and beauty. We 
visited next the Protomotheca, a suite of rooms, con- 
taining a great many busts, all of them either by the 
hand of Canova or of some one of his pupils. Thence 
we proceeded to the Mamertine Prison, and descended 
into the dark dungeon, where, according to the Eoman 
Catholic story, both St. Paul and St. Peter were con- 
fined. We drank from out the spring of water, thai 
rises up from 'the floor of the bottom-most cell, and 
which tradition tells miraculously sprung up that St. 

Paul might baptize his converts to the Christian 

(219) 



220 Memoeies over the Water. 

religion in its holy waters. Our guide presuming, 
perhaps, upon our ignorance of Scriptural History, or 
perhaps himself deceived, went so far as to point out 
the very door, by which the angel conducted St. Peter 
from Prison. But in this dark vault there is a repre- 
sentation in bas-relief on brass, showing St. Peter 
and St. Paul, both in chains, baptising the converted 
prisoners. St. Paul is pouring the water, from Ms 
cap^ upon the heads of his repentant brethren. In this 
dungeon it is stated and believed that Jugurtha was 
starved to death. 

On the following morning we started off* for the 
church of San Carlo to witness the celebration of some 
festival, in which the Pope himself was to officiate. 
On each side of the Corso we found a long line of 
soldiers drawn up, while from out the windows above 
floated white and red banners. One by one the 
gaudy equipages of the Cardinals rolled up, and 
erelong the Pope himself came, riding in his richly- 
gilded coach, drawn by six black horses, in fancy 
trappings, and followed by a troop of dragoons. As 
the Pope passed between the lines, in his carriage, 
the soldiery went down on their knees before him, 
as did also the motley crowd of spectators. On 
reaching the church his Holiness descended from his 
coach, and under a close escort, entered into a private 
apartment of the building. All now entered the 
church, and soon after the Pope appeared, entering by 
a side door, and sitting on a throne, that was borne 
on the shoulders of his attendants, all dressed in long 



Memories oyer the Water. 221 

red robes. On each side of him was carried a broad 
bunch of the feathers of the peacock. He waved his 
hand over the assembly as he passed, muttering mean- 
while his blessing and his prayers. Again the crowd 
bent their knees before him ; but as it did not appear 
that it was required of the Protestant stranger to make 
this lowly salutation we stood upon our feet, though 
his Holiness passed within a few feet of our position. 
We this time had a fair view of his countenance. 
He seemed to us a man of some sixty years, and has 
regular and rather handsome features, though around 
the corners of his mouth there seemed to lurk an easy, 
self-complacent expression. On reaching the altar 
the attendants carefully deposited their precious bur- 
den, and the service began. It was much the same 
as that which we had witnessed at the Sistine chapel, 
and consequently we were well willing to depart on 
its conclusion. 

The streets of Rome we found horribly filthy. So 
far as we came in contact wdth the better class of her 
citizens, we thought them courteous, civil, and intelli- 
gent. But beggars are abundant, and a great majority 
of the populace look ragged and dirty. In Rome, as 
elsewhere in Italy, you are liable to be cheated if you 
are not ever watchful — robbed if you are negligent, 
and assassinated if you recklessly expose yourself. 
Of the ladies of Rome we saw several very beautiful. 
But as a general thing there is a grossness about 
them by no means agreeable to a fastidious taste. 
Beside the blue eyes of America, the dark-eyed seno- 



222 Memories over the Water. 

ritas of Italy would seem positively ugly. Indeed in 
no land, which our foot hath trod, did we find that 
degree of general beauty and intelligence that grace 
"this home of the heart — the land of the West." 
But under the combined influence of despotism and 
ignorance — under the galling chains of a political 
slavery and a religious thraldom — the Roman citizen 
has not even the shadow of his former glory. The 
poor, abject creature that now creeps along her streets 
would hardly recognize his own ancestry in that day, 
when the triumphal procession was seen wending its 
rich and glittering length along the Via Sacra to the 
Capitol, bending under the weight of golden spoils, 
and graced by captive kings and princes — -humbled at 
the chariot- wheel of the Roman conqueror. 

On Wednesday, November 5th, we made a thorough 
exploration of St. Peter's. This building is computed 
to be 613 feet in length, 434 in total height, covers 
240,000 square feet, and its erection cost 50,000,000 
dollars. We first ascended to the roof, by a winding 
staircase, up which a lady may ride on horseback. 
The roof of St. Peter's afibrds a fine view of Rome. 
We then mounted to the first gallery of the dome, 
which for the purpose of a " whispering gallery" is 
much better than St. Paul's at London. Again we 
ascended and reached the second gallery. As one 
looks down from this lofty balcony upon the interior 
of the church, objects grow indistinct, and men seem 
like pigmies moving over the tasselated fioor below. 
The whole of this most wonderful dome is covered 



Memories over the Water. 223 

with mosaic work of the finest order. But again we 
mount upward, and here is the outside balcony, en- 
circling the cap of the dome, whence we had a glori- 
ous view of the panorama about us. '' Excelsior '^ is 
still the word, and we clamber up into the very ball, 
that from below looks like an apple, stuck on the end 

of a rod. Friend P and ourself were the first 

to squeeze in, while several other members of the 
party followed after. We had a merry time of it, by 
closing up with our caps and handkerchiefs the small 
apertures in the ball, through which the light was 
admitted, and thereby causing darkness, confusion 
and dismay to the party then ascending. But in the 
midst of our laughing, rather a solemn feeling would 
come over us ; as we reflected for a moment what a 
ridiculous figure we would cut, if our iron cage, 
perched some 425 feet above the earth, should sud- 
denly take it into its head to topple from its precarious 
position, and bounding over all opposing obstacles 
come clattering to the ground. But we were destined 
to the performance of no such "ground and lofty 
tumbling." We came safely down, and felt a spirit 
of thankfulness in our heart, when our foot pressed 
again the "terra firma." But we feel utterly inade- 
quate to any description of the beauty, the splendor, 
the wonder of St. Peter's. It is a glorious structure — 
a proud and lasting monument to the genius of man. 
Its rich and powerful and colossal statuary, its sarco- 
phagi and its altars, its paintings and its gilded dome, 



224 Memories over the Water. 

its columns and its mosaics, its tasselated floor and 
its glowing high-altar, all combined to form one of 
the most gorgeous and imposing sights that earth 
can boast. We can only say with Byron, that — 

" Majesty, 
Power, glory, strength and beauty, all are aisled 
In this eternal ark of worship undefiled/' 

On the next day we again went forth upon a sight- 
seeing excursion. First we visited Caesar's Palace — 
now nothing more than a mass of moldering brick 
arches, with its grounds laid out in cabbage beds. 
Next to the Campanile Tower, and descended into 
the Yivarium — a series of long and arched vaults, 
dark as Erebus and abounding in pools of water. 
It is said that here were confined the wild beasts, 
destined for exhibition at the Coliseum. Thence to 
the Church of " San Stephano Kotondo," passing on 
our way under the arch of Dolabella, which, by the by, 
is a great humbug. The interior of San Stephano is 
lined with barbarous paintings in fresco, representing 
scenes of martyrdom in the time of the early Chris- 
tians. Thence to the Lateran Piazza, with its Egyp- 
tian obelisk, the largest in Rome, and corresponding 
with the one in the Piazza del Popolo. Went over 
the " Tvluseum Gregorianum," with its colossal statue 
of Antinous ; the sarcophagus of Bacchus ; the mosaic 
of our Saviour with St. Peter and St. Paul ; the two 
ancient pillars found in the bed of the Tiber; the 
black marble stag ; and the fine statue of Sophocles, 



Mem:ories over the Water. 225 

recently discovered and considered the gem of the 
collection. Went into the Lateran Palace, and saw 
there a copy of the ''Flagellation of St. Gregory" 
— an elegant and speaking painting. In another 
chamber are two fine copies of the Assumption and 
Annunciation as also a dashing, full-length portrait 
of George lY, of England. Saw the Saloon of the 
Gladiators, its floor being entirely covered with fine 
antique mosaic, found in the Baths of Caracalla, 
and representing, in sixty-three separate plates, the 
various actors, in difi'erent scenes, on the arena of the 
Coliseum — the gladiator, the boxer, the racer, the 
wrestler and the conqueror. Next we went to the 
church of St. John Lateran, in whose center is erected 
a beautiful Gothic Tabernacle, and there, among 
many other sacred relics, repose^ as you are told^ 
the heads of St. Peter and St. Paul. In this church 
we were shown (believe it who will) the identical 
table on which our Saviour celebrated the last supper ; 
and in the cloister of Constantine, the marble curbing, 
that once stood over the well of Samaria ; the por- 
phyry slab, on which the soldiers played for the gar- 
ments of our Saviour ; a pillar that was rent in twain 
at his death ; and many other such curious relics, 
equally interesting and authentic. Such fabulous in- 
ventions, sanctioned by Holy Church and propagated 
by her ministers, are ample proof of the ignorance 
and superstition of the masses in Rome, as well as the 
deceptions practiced by her Priesthood. The poor 

19 



226 Memories over the Water. 

peasant and the pauper implicitly believe the stories 
thus trumped up, and as the long-robed priest, (who 
must be paid for his information,) leads the intel- 
ligent traveler among these holy relics, with an assur- 
ance that is absolutely farcical, he will put off the 
same preposterous stories on him. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



On the outskirts of Rome there is a little church, 
called the Chapel of St. Salvadore. The marble 
steps that lead up into the building are said to be 
the same by which our Saviour descended from the 
presence of Pontius Pilate, when condemned to death 
by that prelate. They were taken, it is supposed, 
from the Tribunal of Justice at Jerusalem, and 
brought over to Rome. Now in such veneration are 
these steps held, that they are never ascended save on 
the knees. They are, moreover, covered with plank, 
which is worn smooth by the constant friction. 
Several coatings of plank, w^e were told, had been worn 
out, and replaced by a new covering. On several of 
the steps there are holes through which the marble is 
visible, and where the penitent children of Holy 
Church pause and devoutly kiss the cold rock. Now 
we had no such superstitious reverence for these stairs 
as the many Romans about us — in fact we did not 
at all credit the story of their having been trod by 
the foot of our Saviour ^ — but yet, for the mere men- 
tion of the thing, we concluded that we, too, would 
make the ascent on our knees. Price, who was ever 

ready for something novel in its way, agreed to join 

( 227 ) 



228 Memories over the Water. 

us. The rest of the company declined, excepting our 
knight of the razor, who followed most devoutly 
behind. There were a good many pilgrims on the 
'' Santa Scala," when we started, the majority in 
advance, mounting slowly up and muttering their 
prayers as they ascended. The enterprise proceeded 
very well with us at first, until we began to feel our 
knees grow sore from pressing against the hard 
plank, and we almost repented of our undertaking. 
But go back on our knees we could not, and to place 
a foot upon the steps would be to outrage the public 
opinion of all Eome. We therefore, wdth most 
irreverent haste, pressed on, scrambling past several 
devout old ladies, who looked with astonishment 
upon our sacrilegious speed, and probably ofiered a 
prayer that we might escape the clutches of Satan for 
our rash temerity. We had so far, however, preserv- 
ed a grave face, until, looking back, we observed the 
burly form of Frank Parrish, his hands meekly folded 
on his breast, slowly ascending the stairs. On reach- 
ing one of the holes, he too, with all the gravity of a 
firm believer, bent his lips to the rock. This was too 
great a provocation to our risible organs, and scuf- 
fling up as soon as possible to the top to hide our ill- 
timed merriment, we mentally vowed we would never 
again undertake the ascent of the " Santa Scala." 
We were amused at the astonishment expressed by 
our worthy guide, as he told us that we would cer- 
tainly be visited that night by some demon of dreams, 
as a punishment for our profanation. But the demon 



Memories oyer the Water. 229 

did not come. Near the chapel of St. Salvadore is 
the shrine at which Pope Benedict XIY, received 
Charlemagne, on his entrance into Rome. 

Thence we went to the church of " Santa Croce in 
Gerusalemme," founded by St. Helena, the mother 
of Constantine. It is one of the seven Basilicas of 
Eome, and contains an especial piece of the true 
cross. Next we went to the Porta Maggiore, and 
looked at the old Roman Aqueduct, by means of 
which Eome is at this day supplied with water, 
brought from the neighboring mountains, at a distance 
of twenty-four miles. Next we saw the Trophy of 
Marius, nothing more now than a huge pile of brick 
and rubbish. Then came to the Church of Santa 
Maria Maggiore, on the Esqueline Hill, containing 
the chapel of the Borghese Family, and two rows of 
Ionic columns, thirty-six in number, and supposed to 
have belonged to the Temple of Juno. 

Descending the Esqueline, we ascended the Quiri- 
nal Hill, which is also called Monte Cavallo, from a 
fine fountain on its summit, decorated with groups of 
men taming wild horses. One group is the work of 
Phidias, and the other of Praxiteles — both considered 
masterpieces of Grecian sculpture. 

Descending again into the city, we passed by the 
Fontana di Trevi, the handsomest fountain in Rome. 
The chariot and colossal statue of Neptune, drawn by 
sea-horses and guided by Tritons, are seated on a 
mass of numerous rocks, over which the water is 
pouring in every direction. In the lateral niches are 



230 Memories over the Water. 

the statues of Salubrity and Plenty, with bas-reliefs 
above, representing the interview between Agrippa 
and the Virgin who discovered the fountain. The 
Colonna Gardens next claimed our attention, where 
we saw some few fragments of the frieze of the Tem- 
ple of the Sun, and the decayed old trunk of a tree, 
said to have been planted by Eienzi, the last of the 
Roman Tribunes. Then the Baths of Constantine, 
and the Baths of Diocletian. Then the Church of 
Santa Maria Angeli, built on the plan of the Greek 
Cross, and said to occupy the site of the grand hall 
of the Baths of Diocletian. The roof is supported by 
eight antique granite columns, each a single block, 
and standing just as they stood in the Baths. They 
are each fifteen feet in circumference, and forty-five 
feet in height. Went then into an adjoining chapel, 
where we were shown the bones of many martyrs ; 
thence to the cloister of Diocletian, in which now 
grow the orange, the cypress, the cedar and the cab- 
bage. The building is occupied as a barrack for the 
French soldiery. Next we visited the studio of Mr. 
Crawford, an American artist, w^ho has been em- 
ployed by the State of Yirginia to make several 
colossal statues of her principal heroes. We saw the 
model of a fine statue of Patrick Henry, with a cloak 
thrown over his left shoulder, and holding a sword in 
his right-hand. Ilis arms are stretched forth in the 
attitude of oratory, and the memorable words — " Give 
me liberty or give me death" — seem trembling on his 
lips. These statues are first to be modeled in Eome, 



Memories oyer the Water. 231 

and then taken to Munich and cast in the famous 
Bronze Foundry of that city. Next we saw the Porta 
Salaria, where occurred the rape of the Sabines. 
Looked over into the Gardens of Sallust, and thence 
to the Yilla Albani, one of the most celebrated in 
Rome, and abounding in busts, bas-reliefs, bronzes, 
box-hedges, flower-gardens, and water-fountains. The 
view of the Alban hills, with their snow-clad tops, is 
very fine from this villa. Among the antique busts 
to be found here, we recollect those of Agrippa, 
Brutus, Scipio, Titus, and Themistocles. We made 
the tour of the building, beginning with the oval 
chamber, with its fawns and marble vase ; the cabinet 
of Mosaic, with the bronze statue of Apollo, described 
by Pliny ; a bust of the hump-backed ^sop, and a 
statuette of the Farnese Hercules ; the saloon, a 
beautiful marble hall, with statues of Jove and Pallas, 
and a bas-relief, representing the taming of Buce- 
phalus by Alexander ; the cabinet of bas-reliefs, the 
best of which is the one representing the interview 
between Diogenes and Alexander. The cynic philo- 
sopher is sitting in his tub, and motions to the con- 
queror of the world to move out of his sunshine ; 
cabinet of the Vase, so called from the magnificent 
white marble vase, situated in the center of the apart- 
ment ; the vase is twentj^'-two feet in circumference, 
and bears on its outward rim, in bas-relief, the 
labors of Hercules. With the Billiard-room and 
Coflee-house we finished up the villa, and returned to 
our hotel. 



232 Memories over the Water. 

While in Rome we generally occupied the entire 
day, from an early breakfast to dinner hour, at six 
o'clock, p. M., in sight-seeing. Dinner generally 
occupied an hour or two, strict attention being given 
to the numerous courses, ah ovo usque w.alum. 
During the intervals the eyes of our party were gene- 
rally directed either to the Russian bride, the Scotch 
girls, or the ladies from France. The bride from the 
snowy clime, however, bore away the palm. Such a 
complexion, and such teeth ! and then so young, and 
such a husband ! It was beauty and the beast. But 
dinner over, we would repair to our private parlor — 
provided we were confined within doors by the 

rain — when the romp would invariably ensue. K 

was our Pickwick, and E our orator. The latter, 

feeling again the spirit of earlier days, would make 
the center- table his rostrum, and under the local 
influence of the Roman Forum, give us a touch of 
Ciceronian oratory. We recollect the subject of one 
address — Light; in the which our patriarch did 
discourse most learnedly of the difierence between 
a wax and a tallow candle. His arguments were 
unanswerable, being enforced by the most touching 
appeals to our past experience in our travel through 
Italy. At the close of the exciting peroration, the 
enthusiastic orator would spring from the table, and 
throwing himself into a tragic attitude, challenge the 
whole squad of us to combat. The glove was im- 
mediately taken up, and a promiscuous battle-royal 
would ensue. Lights were blown out, heavy pillows 



Memories oyer the Water. 233 

wielded by lusty hands flashed in the air, tables were 
upturned, chairs smashed, and more than one sofa 
rendered liovs du comhat from the loss of a leg. 
F and J rolled over and over in close em- 
brace, E— — and F tugged away at each other 

in one corner, while McG and ourself indulged 

in cart and tierce exercise with a couple of formida- 
ble bolsters. The prude Englishman and the sprucy 
son of Gaul heard with holy horror the tumult in the 
Yankee quarter ; while the eyes of the elegant w^aiter 
grew to the size of saucers, as he opened the door and 
looked in on the chaos of objects, animate and inani- 
mate. But still "the combat deepens" — the work 
goes bravely on — until at last weak from our rapid 
exercise and exhausted with laughter, we threw 
ourself upon the bed, and suffered our victorious 
opponent to beat away at his pleasure. And well 
did he improve upon his advantage, for with ''neither 
strength in our arm nor mercy in our woe," he 
pounded away, until our aching sides suggested the 
necessity for a retreat. It was our only remedy — the 
'dernier ressort' — and so jumping up, we ingloriously 

fled, but with the tireless McG in hot pursuit, down 

the long passage toward the stairway, his flaming 
locks flying in the wind, and the infernal bolster still 
dangling on his arm. On our way we encountered a 
lady returning to her room, but who on seeing the 
fierce charge of the fiery " Tennesseean," also turned 
about and fled. But on we rushed, close upon her 



234 Memories over the Water. 

heels, and reaching the head of the staircase glided 
down with marvelous rapidity ; not so fast, however, 
that we did not hear the quick whiz of that same old 
bolster, as it came flashing by our head, hurled from 
the hand of the doughty knight above, but who being 
sligJitly ^^ en duTiabille^'^ ^\^ not dare venture any 
farther. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



On the morning of the 10th of November the heavy 
clouds, which had so long hung the heavens in 
mourning, were brushed away, and we beheld old 
Rome basking in the light of a clear and cloudless 
sky. The yellow Tiber was up and booming, and 
the descendants of the ancient Romans stood upon its 
banks to look in w^onder and admiration on the 
rushing waters. But we had been upon the broad 
bosom of the mighty Mississippi, so that the Tiber, 
in all the majesty of its flooded banks, seemed but a 
muddy rivulet in comparison. 

That morning we entered the Yatican in the wake 
of a beautiful English woman. She threw the fine 
arts into the shade, and it was some time before we 
could descend to the worship of Raphael. We began 
first with the Library, but not having a permit from 
the Pope, we were refused a sight of the books and 
manuscripts, all of which are shut up in countless 
drawers. The great hall of the Library is a mag- 
nificent room. The entire floor is laid with beauti- 
fully polished marble, and both the walls and the 
ceilings are covered with paintings in fresco. But 
looking at these frescoed ceilings is enough to break 

(235) 



236 Memories over the Water. 

the neck of a Hercules. It is worse than star-gazing. 
How they were ever painted so well we cannot con- 
ceive. Our artistic enthusiasm would soon evaporate, 
if compelled to lie on our back and paint upward. 
But we had begun to doubt our own taste in regard 
to painting ; it did not coincide with the established 
despotism. We had been barbarian enough to admire 
pictures of little reputation, and to see but little beauty 
in some of the masterpieces of the world. However, 
it may be a blessing not to be a connoisseur ; one can 
admire without being condemned, and condemn with- 
out being regarded. In the long gallery we saw an 
exquisitely sweet face of the young Augustus, in Parian 
marble. This gallery is called the Corridor of Inscrip- 
tions, on account of the walls being literally lined 
with antique inscriptions found among the ruins of 
ancient Rome. In the square vestibule is the Belvi- 
dere Torso ; a fragment of Hercules in repose, and 
greatly admired by Michael Angelo. Here, also, is 
the sarcophagus of Scipio. From the Round Vesti- 
bule we passed into the Portico, which is graced by 
some of the most noted sculpture in the world. In 
the first cabinet on the right we found the Boxers, 
and also Perseus with the head of the Medusa — all 
by the hand of Canova. In the second cabinet is 
the Belvidere Mercury. Next comes the original 
group of Laocoon and his two sons. It is said, by 
Pliny, that this celebrated piece of sculpture formerly 
occupied a place in the Palace of Titus, and that it 
was executed conjointly by three Rhodian sculptors — 



Memories over the Water. 237 

Agesander, Polidorus and Athenodorus. The follow- 
ing lines, from the pen of Byron, lend additional inter- 
est to this group, while they illustrate the Trojan story: 

Or turning to the Vatican, to see 

Laocoon's dignifying pain, 

A father's love and mortal's agony. 

With an immortal's patience blending ; vain 

The struggle ; vain against the coiling strain. 

And gripe, and deep'ning of the dragon's grasp. 

The old man's clench ; the long envenom'd chain 

Rivets the living links ; the enormous asp 

Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp. 

The last cabinet of the Portico contains the Belvi- 
dere Apollo, considered one of the finest statues of 
antiquity. Immediately following the above verse, 
from Childe Harold, will be found this description of it: 

Or view the lord of the unerring how, 
The god of life, and poesy, and light — 
The sun in human limbs array'd and brow 
All radiant from his triumph in the fight ; 
The shaft hath just been shot — the aiTow bright 
With an immortal's vengeance ; in his eye 
And nostril beautiful disdain, and might. 
And majesty flash their full lightnings by. 
Developing in that one glance the deity. 
But in his delicate form — a dream of love. 
Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast 
Longed for a deathless lover from above. 
And madden'd in that vision — are expressed 
All that ideal beauty ever blessed 
The mind with, in its most unearthly mood, 
When each conception was a heavenly guest — 
A ray of immortality — and stood 
Starlike around, until they gathered to a god. 



238 Memories over the Water. 

We next, successively, went through the Hall of 
Animals; the Gallery of Statues; the Hall of Busts; 
the Cabinet of Masks ; the Hall of the Muses ; the 
Sala Eotunda, and the Hall of the Greek Cross ; all 
abounding in antique statuary. We now ascended 
the beautiful staircase of Carrara marble, and entered 
the Hall of the Biga ; so called from a beautiful 
chariot, drawn by two horses, which occupies its 
center, and all of pure white marble. Then came 
another gallery, replete with vases, cups, bas-reliefs, 
busts and candelabra. Following this corridor to its 
end we next entered the long Tapestry Gallery ; so 
called from immense pictures of tapestry which 
occupy its walls, and principally subjects taken from 
Biblical History. From this we were led into the 

Geographical Gallery, down which P and ourself 

took a foot-race, much to the ire of our worthy patri- 
arch, who thought such conduct, in the Palace of the 
Pope, utterly disgraceful. Next we saw the Vatican 
Tapestries, executed on the cartoons of Eaphael, and 
afterward entered the Picture Gallery. Here is the 
Transi5guration, the Madonna di Foligno, and a host 
of frescoes, in what are called the Loggia of Raphael. 
With this we finished up the Yatican ; a few statis- 
tical facts of whose history may not be uninteresting. 
It is built upon one of the seven hills of Eome, and 
covers a space of twelve hundred feet in length and 
one thousand in breadth. It occupies the site of the 
gardens of JSTero, but owes its origin to the Bishop of 
Rome, who, in the early part of the sixteenth century, 



Memories over the Water. 239 

erected there a humble residence. About the year 
1150 Pope Eugenius rebuilt it on a grand scale. Inno- 
cent the 2d, a few years afterward, gave it up as a 
lodging to Peter the 2d, King of Arragon. In 1305 
Clement the 5th, at the instigation of the King of 
France, removed the Papal See of Home to Avignon, 
when the Vatican remained in a condition of obscurity 
and neglect for more than seventy years. But soon 
after the return of the pontifical court to Rome in 
1376, the Vatican was put into a state of repair, and 
was thenceforward considered the regular palace and 
residence of the Popes, who, one after another, added 
new buildings to it, and gradually enriched it with 
antiquities, statues, pictures and books, until it has 
become the richest depository in the world. The 
Library was commenced fourteen hundred years 
ago, and contains four hundred thousand manu- 
scripts, among which are some by Pliny, St. Thomas, 
St. Charles Borromeo, and many Hebrew, Syriac, 
Arabian and Armenian Bibles. And then when it 
is known that there have been exhumed more than 
seventy thousand statues from the ruined temples 
and palaces of Rome — the best of which have been 
deposited in the Vatican — the reader can form some 
idea of the extent and riches of this building. So 
much then for our visit to the Vatican. 

As it is impossible to do justice to the many objects 
of interest to be seen in Rome, we will just mention 
the most prominent that came within the scope of our 
researches. The list for the 11th of November ran as 



24:0 Memories over the Water. 

follows: Theater of Marcellus ; Portico of Octavia ; 
the Fabrician Bridge ; the Tiberian Island ; the 
Romayiwn Populum trans Tiber um^ and the Porta 
Ripa Grande, where we found some little shipping, 
an immense custom-house, and a great abundance of 
codfish, all the way from America. Saw the ruins 
of the house of Kienzi, where Pilate is said to have 
resided during his sojourn in Pome. Saw the church 
of St. Nicholas, built on the site of the prison, where 
the father of the Eoman daughter w^as confined, and 
his life sustained by nourishment from his child's 
breast. This beautiful incident has not escaped the 
muse of Byron, who thus speaks of the Eoman story: 

The starry fable of tlic milky way 

Has not thy story^s purity ; it is 

A constellation of a sweeter ray. 

And sacred nature triumphs more in this. 

Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss 

Where sparkle distant worlds ; oh ! holiest nurse I 

No drop of that pure stream shall miss its way. 

To thy sire's heart, replenishing its source 

"With life, as our freed souls rejoin the Universe. 

Saw the remains of the Palatine Bridge, the Temple 
of Fortuna Virilis ; of Yesta, and of Janus. Went to 
the entrance of Cloaca Maxima; the immense sewer 
constructed for the purpose of draining Pome. Saw 
the Bocca della Yerita — one of the mouths of an an- 
cient oracle — in the church of Santa Maria in Cosme- 
din. Yisited the Pyramid of Caius Cestius out by the 
Ostia Gate. Crossed over the rising of the Tiber, on 
the Yia Ostia, by means of a mule cart, and went to 



Memories oyer the Water. 241 

see the Basilica of St. Paul. When completed this 
church will prove a most magnificent affair. Its 
nave is supported by eighty huge granite columns of 
the finest polish. On our return, along by the banks 
of the Tiber, we stopped at the foot of the Aventine 
hill to look at a team of European buffaloes, attached 
to a cart as we do our oxen. Thence we went to the 
Barbarini Palace, which possesses one of the most 
interesting pictures in Rome — the head of Beatrice 
Cenci, by Guido. The face is one of the most beauti- 
ful in the world — just the one to go mad about. It is 
an astonishing performance which defies reproduction ; 
an off-hand dash of inspiration which the artist, him- 
self, could not have repeated. There is no limb 
visible — nothing but a draped face. Shelley has 
given a truthful analysis of its expression. Tradition 
would have us believe that this portrait was taken the 
evening before her execution; but it needs no such 
artificial aid to rivet one's attention. There is that 
indefinable something in the face which sets one a 
dreaming. It breathes the language of thoughtful, 
unmerited suffering ; it is a countenance that comes 
long after, at your bidding, from the depths of 
memory, and almost persuades you it was once your 
friend. We have met one face that was something 
like it; 'twas not in the clime of the Eoman daugh- 
ter, but on the soil of far-western shores. The voice 
of the mountain stream did murmur, from out its 
mossy bed, a sullen song ; the flashing cascade, un- 
spanned by the attendant Iris, dashed angrily down 
20 



242 Memories over the Water. 

the wave- worn cliff; the storm-king, like some Titanic 
monster, rode his heavy steed far down the dark pa- 
villion ; the hoarse wind sm^ged madly through the 
forest, until its proudest monarchs bowed their heads ; 
the thunder echoed among the mountain -peaks, and 
the forked lightning flashed along the solemn sky. 
But there was a fountain of sunlight in fondest eyes, 
and lo ! 'mid the fury of the storm, and through the 
craggy clouds above, burst down one golden gleam to 
mingle with that spirit- light. The fire from Heaven 
glowed upon a holy altar, and the two young hearts 
that worshiped there, did know their vows accepted. 
Though from the Earth it die darkling out, yet, as 
from the great Source and through the dense panoply 
of gloom it came, so shall it backward stream, even 
through the shadows of death, and lend sweet luster 
to the light of the Spirit-land. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

While in Eome we saw the Prince Barbarini and 
the Prince Borghese. The latter was riding leisurely 
through the streets on horseback, in the midst of a 
hard rain. Each el, the tragic actress of Paris, was 
also in the Eternal City on a visit, whom we had the 
pleasure of seeing at the Theater. We thought there 
was a good deal of character in her acting, but rather 
too much of the tigress. She resembles very much, 
in personal appearance, Mrs. H , of Nashville. 

In the Protestant burial-ground, near the Porta St. 
Paulo, are the graves of Shelley and of Keats. 
Above the grave of Shelley the roses were in bloom, 
and by his side reposed the ashes of his countryman. 
The hand of affection was visible in the fresh sod, the 
flowers, and the smooth cleanliness of the lettered 
marble ; but over poor Keats the rank grass lay mat- 
ted and half-decayed ; the broken lyre upon his little 
slab was almost obliterated, and the dark cypress 
around only mocked the unsympathizing solitude. 
In death as in life he seemed an object of neglect. 
He the most sorrowful-fated — even among the poets — 
the spirit whose diviner moments gushed forth in 
gong — over whose young years already the wing of 

(243) 



244 Memories oyeFw the Water. 

death sat brooding, and to whom a "thing of beauty 
was a joy forever ;" this being, whose stinted exist- 
ence was but a record of good deeds, sleeps worse 
than the common herd of mortals. 

On the morning of the 13th of November we went 
out riding on the Appian Way. We stopped first at 
the Columbaria, the burial-vaults of the bones and 
ashes of the slaves of the noble families of ancient 
Rome, and so called because their internal arrange- 
ment much resembles a dove-cot or pigeon-house. 
They consist simply of a square apartment, built 
under-ground, and ranged round, tier above tier are 
the niches for the ashes of the dead. These niches 
are earthen jars, covered with a top. Several of these 
tops were removed by our companions, and their 
hands went dabbing down among the ashes and the 
bones of the warlike Roman, without ever saying — 
''By your leave, sir!" We had a custode in our 
company here, who demanded on our parting a most 
exorbitant fee for his trouble in showing us around. 
This we decided not to pay ; but gave him, as we 
drove off, what we deemed a sufficient bonus lor his 
services. With all the energy of Italian gesticulation, 
he insisted on a greater remuneration, and fretted 
himself into a towering rage, w^hich was increased to 

fever heat by McG 's performing that expressive 

gyration of the thumb from the tip of the nose at the 
scamp, as our carriage rattled away. This was more 
than Roman patience could endure, and so grabbing 
up a few rocks that lay loosely about, he offered to 



Memories over the Water. 245 

stone the carriage. Seeing this, our driver was 
immediately ordered to hold up ; but on preparing to 
get out the valorous custode forthwith disappeared 
within the gate. 

We next descended into the Tombs of the Scipios, 
guarded by a tall and solitary cypress. Thence we 
went out by the Porta Appia, and stopped at the 
Basilica of St. Sebastian, where we saw a beautiful 
marble statue of the patriot saint, represented in a 
recumbent position, and pierced with four arrows. 
Here we descended into the great Catacombs at 
Rome, an immense labyrinth of subterranean caverns, 
where it is said fourteen of the early Popes and one 
hundred and seventy thousand Christians were buried. 
Next we visited the Circus of Romulus. Passed by 
the huge ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, and visited 
the Tomb of Secilia Metella, the finest and best pre- 
served monument on the Appian. Saw the Temple 
of Bacchus, and stood at the Fountain of Egeria, where 
Numa Pompilius, the second of the seven Roman 
Kings, was wont to meet the beauteous nymph, and 
receive from her instruction how he might best govern 
Rome. But it requires more credulity than w^e pos- 
sess to believe this grotto to have been the haunt of 
any nymph. We do not envy ISTuma the interview, 
if it took place there. It looks very like a quiz ; 
even the valet looked doubtful, and when the valet 
doubts the Devil would not believe. On our return 
to the city we stopped to have a close inspection of 
the old Roman Aqueduct. It is constructed by means 



246 Memories over the Water. 

of a series of arches, and is built of a species of soft 
stone called Pepperino. Its appearance is exactly 
that of pepper, and hence we suppose its name. 
Entered the city by the Porta San Giovanni, and 
reached our hotel by way of the Coliseum. We then 
went to the Mausoleum of Augustus, and found it 
fitted up for, and occupied by, a circus company. 
What a commentary on life. The buffoon and clown 
mock and jest over an emperor's tomb. In the after- 
noon, while coming down the Corso, we encountered 
the carriage of the Pope. He was followed by a 
second carriage, and behind that a troop of dragoons. 
Preceding him rode three horsemen, the one after the 
other, whose duty it was to clear the way for the car- 
riage of his Holiness. The populace, as usual, bent 
the knee before him, with head uncovered, as he 
passed. 

On the next day we went out with J in search 

of some paintings. What we principally sought was 
a copy of Beatrice Cenci, and of Hope — both by 
Guido. In the studio of one artist, we were shown 
the paintings by his pretty wife, who spoke a little 
English. 

''And is this the only copy of Hope you have. 
Madam ?" we inquired. 

" Yes, Sir, the only one," replied the lady. 

"Then it would be hard to deprive you of you7' 
only Hope^ Madam," returned our friend from the 
Santee. And so we left without making the purchase. 

But we had now been in Rome for nearly three 



Memories over the Water. 247 

weeks, and many of our party were anxious to move 
on southward. And finally it was agreed by all to 
go. But first our passports must be put en regie for 
our departure, and this the American traveler in Italy 
will find to be no inconsiderable tax. As an item or 
two in illustration, we had to pay, in order to get out 
from Eome, about four dollars, and out from Naples 
about seven. But we were in no disposition to grum- 
ble. Our visit to the Seven hills had been most 
satisfactory, and we left knowing that we had seen all 
that was most worthy of note within their compass. 
We had wandered about here so much that we knew 
nearly every nook of the Eternal City, from the Coli- 
seum down to the Porta del Popolo. We have stood 
upon her Seven hills, and from the solitary summit of 
Testatio have passed in review her glories from the 
step of Eemus to the leap of the Bourbon. We have 
walked again and again about her walls, and paused 
daily beneath her monuments to realize the fact that 
we were in Rome. Like her early youth, she is still 
a dream ; and often as one roams carelessly through 
her streets, the sound of " Roma" falls upon the ear 
with a startling cadence, as if the certainty of her 
presence was made manifest for the first time to one's 
bewildered senses. It is not the first glance of Rome, 
as her towers rise above the plain, that awakens the 
schoolboy feeling of awe within you, but after you 
have dwelt amid her desolation, and familiarized 
yourself with her woe, you feel how truly melancholy 
has been her fate. She has quaffed deeply of the cup 



248 Memokiks oykk the Water. 

of conquest, and played the spoiler till the very earth 
grew weary of her ponderous w^eight, and now her 
possessions have been partitioned out like stray old 
trinkets among the vandal dynasties that she did 
quicken into life. Verily, she is the "Niobe of 
Nations, " and her "dower is present woe." 

On the morning of the 18th of November we set 
out from Rome, southward bound, for the city of 
Naples, We traveled again by Vetturino, and this 
time our party filled two carriages. In one were Mr. 
Thurston and his two sisters. Colonel Kimmel, and 
friend Johnstone ; in the other Messrs. Ewing, 
McGavock, Price, Fogg, and ourself, and Frank Par- 
rish. Including the two drivers, we formed a respect- 
able party of thirteen persons, and so had but little 
apprehension of the banditti, who were reported to 
infest the route between Rome and Naples. At 
Albano we had breakfast. Our hotel, called the 
"Royal," was formerly a very handsome palace. 
The view, from its balcony over the Marshes to the 
Mediterranean, was superb. Our ensuing route was 
along a wild and picturesque road, leading through 
Velletri and several other villap-es, and brino-ino- ns 
about dusk to Cisterna, where we rested for the night. 

On the following morning we were off at an early 
hour, and soon entered on the famous Pontine Marshes, 
over whose unbroken level we traveled for about 20 
miles, and through an interminable avenue of elms 
that stood on either side of the road. These Marshes 
consist of a vast body of low, level grounds, over 



Memories over the Water. 249 

which roam and feed large herds of cattle. We 
reached Terracina about one o'clock, and took dinner 
at a very comfortable hotel, situated immediately on 
the shore of the hoarse old Mediterranean. As we 
sat at the window, watching the weaves that came 
chasing each other to the shore, their long w^hite curls 
breaking with a dull and heavy sound upon the 
beach, a host of beggar boys and girls came up and 
gathered in a crowd below, calling on us for a few 
baiocchi. On tossing them a copper they would pile 
themselves up in one promiscuous bundle where the 
coin fell, frequently losing the coveted prize in the 
sand, and yet keenly enjoying the rough-and-tumble 
scuffle. Terracina is built upon the mountain side, 
its white-walled houses rising, terrace above terrace, 
for some distance up ; hence we suppose its name. 
Leaving Terracina the road winds for several miles 
along the shore of the Mediterranean, and then turn- 
ing into the interior enters the Neapolitan territory. 
Here on the border line we were about to have much 
vexation and delay with the examination of passports 
and baggage, until the oiling of a few pauls caused 
papers and luggage to glide with marvelous ease 
through the hands of these official functionaries. 
Entered Fondi about dusk, encountering a horde of 
ferocious, banditti-looking lazzaroni, clad in their 
long brown cloaks, and scowling from out the heavy 
caps that dangled over their dark brows. But our 
company was too numerous to be triJBied with, and so 
we passed on without interruption. 
21 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

On leaviBg Fondi we journeyed on till we reached 
the village called Mola, where we rested for the night. 
On the day following we passed through the towns of 
Santa Agata and Casano, arriving at Capua about 
dark. Here we found every nook and corner in the 
hotels filled with the military, who, passing through 
the village, had been mercilessly quartered, without 
leave or license, in the public houses. Part of our 
company, in one carriage with the ladies, resolved to 
go on to Naples, but we, in the other, concluded, in 
preference to proceeding any farther in the dark and 
rain, to take whatever accommodations one small 
room could afford for the comfort of five persons. 
So we kindled a little fire in a brazier, and as we 
hovered around its scanty warmth, in the cold and 
dismal room, with the true philosophy of travel, we 
made merry over our misfortunes.. The next morning 
we rose, in good humor, even with adverse fortune, 
and though the rain came down in torrents, at nine 
o'clock, A. M., we were on the rail and rushing on 
toward Naples. We reached the city in the midst of 
a perfect deluge, and as soon as we could get through 
the custom-house, we all took cabs and started for the 

(250) 



Memories oyer the Water. 251 

Hotel des Etrangers. As we rattled along the well- 
paved streets, the rain and the hail came dashing in 
our faces with such a drenching force as almost to 
suffocate us. But still we pushed on by the shore of 
the bay, where the long-swept waves raged and dashed 
upon the stone piers, causing the heavy spray to fly 
high above their summits. To add to the gloom of 
the scene the wreck of a small schooner lay along the 
shore, around which, in despite of the fierce breakers, 
gathered a greedy crowd of lazzaroni. Our first view 
of Naples and its famous bay was, indeed, enough to 
make us exclaim, " See Naples and dieP 

But on the following day the whole aspect of nature 
was changed. Our hotel we found beautifully located ; 
lying immediately on the margin of the bay. On 
rising in the morning we unclosed our window and 
looked out upon the scene before us. The surface of 
the bay was still agitated, and we listened with a 
well-pleased ear to the sullen roar of the rushing 
waves, as one by one they dashed their snow-white 
burdens on the beach, and retired again as if to 
gather a new supply. Like sportive school-boys 
they seemed to chase each other to the shore, their 
crested caps curling in very joy. Over their raging 
tops danced the white sea-gull, like a warrior's plume 
above his battered helmet. On looking over the bay 
the eye caught sight of old Vesuvius, looming up on 
the opposite shore, with a thin cloud of white smoke 
curling lazily from the crater. Little sign of anger was 
visible about the old fellow's brow. He seemed to be 



252 Memories over the Water. 

dreaming away, harmless in his quiet slumber, and as 
if little addicted to those furious spasms that history 
accords him. Farther off to the right lay the islands 
of Ischia and Capri, basking in the sweet, bright 
beams of the morning sun. Our second view of 
Naples and its famous bay was enough to make us 
exclaim: " See Naples and live.^'' 

Eome has about one hundred and fifty thousand 
inhabitants, while Naples contains a population of 
four hundred and fifty thousand. In the latter city 
there are three hundred churches and thirty-seven 
asylums. With such charitable provision it is a 
question for the statesman and the moralist to deter- 
mine why wretchedness and rags should so abound 
in her streets. The city is twelve miles in circum- 
ference, and is defended by three prominent forts — 
Oastel St. Elmo, Oastel Nuova, and Castel dell Uovo. 
The houses are high, with flat roofs ; the streets well 
paved with lava, brought from Vesuvius ; and the 
water abundant and good. The water is furnished 
through under-ground aqueducts, and by means of 
which, it is said, the city has been twice captured by 
her enemies. The cabs are a miserable set of rattle- 
traps, and their drivers the most importunate and 
impudent of rascals. The beautiful bay is terminated 
on either side by a jutting cape — that of Misenum 
on the right, and that of Minerva on the left. Just 
beyond the latter lies the long and picturesque island 
of Capri, rising abruptly like a camel's back, out of 
the bay, and serving as a breakwater to the harbor. 



Memories oyer the Water. 253 

The theater of San Carlo, hard by the Royal Palace, 
is reputed the largest in the world. Yis-a-vis to the 
Palace is the church of St. Francis de Paola, with 
long colonnades extending on the right-hand and the 
left, forming a semicircle in front much after the 
manner of St. Peter's, at Eome. Toward the western 
end of the city lie the public gardens, called the 
Villa Eeale, and filled with fountains, flowers, and 
finely-finished statuary. 

It would seem that in the very atmosphere of 
Naples there is something that makes life one lasting 
smile. The wearisome ennui of idleness is forgotten, 
and without being in love you become a constant 
dreamer. Existence is, in itself, a happiness, and 
this it is, that causes the face of the penniless laz- 
zaroni to wear as bright a smile as that of the favored 
son of fortune. We have seen these cast-ofi* wretches, 
without a copper in their pocket, or a meal in per- 
spective, as merry as the jocund lark. But the laz- 
zaroni of Naples is a physical phenomenon. They 
beg, but beg with such a saucy, insolent air, that you 
hardly know whether they are asking charity or 
claiming a right. And yet they will study when to take 
you in your kindest mood, and in walking the street 
a good-humored expression of countenance is almost 
sure to be the precursor of an appeal to your benevo- 
lence. If the petition be disregarded, it is more than 
probable the applicant will laugh in your face, and 
move mockingly away. 



254 Memories over the Water. 

At the foot of the Villa Reale, on the shore of the 
bay, are ever congregated the boats and nets of the 
fishermen ; and here is the chief rendezvous of the 
lazzaroni, where they gather in knots, jabbering, ges- 
ticulating, and capering like so many monkies. On 
strolling by we stopped to look in one of the fish- 
baskets, which had just been replenished from the 
net. On observing this the veteran owner of the 
fish approached where we were standing, and with a 
waggish humor in his eye, he took his empty pipe 
from his mouth, and lovingly tapping the solacer of 
his sorrows with his fore-finger intimated, by the 
most expressive pantomine, that he would like for us 
to fill it up again, 

" But, my friend, I don't use the weed," said we ; 
whereupon he stared as if shocked at our unculti- 
vated taste in using such slang phrase. We left him 
wondering, perhaps, at the bad manners of Americans. 

But the lazzaroni is a fit subject for the study of the 
philosophic mind. He is the child of nobody ; he does 
nothing ; he lives on nothing. He is the poorest of 
the poor, yet the happiest of the happy. The very air 
seems to be his parent and his support. He lodges in 
a fish-basket in the summer, and disappears like the 
swallow at the approach of winter. His mode of 
life has not a few advantages ; family cares, family 
loves, and family quarrels are alike unknown to him; 
and when you see the little lazzaroni crawling about, 
like a mud turtle on a log, you take it for granted 
he is a spontaneous growth, not to be recognized by 



Memories over the Water. 265 

the census. He costs the government nothing, and 
his parental claims are more visionary than the profits 
of the South Sea Company. It would be a positive 
vulgarity for the lazzaroni to recognize his offspring. 
He gives the brat an existence, and casts him into the 
market place, as though he were hurling a planet into 
its orbit. Instinct and climate do the rest. The infant 
lazzaroni expands into a red cap and a piece of blanket; 
he then makes his entree into society, and becomes a 
frequenter of the Mole. When the lazzaroni wears 
out — for he never dies — they drop him into the Campo 
Santo, wardrobe and all, without the formality of a 
funeral service, the sound of a dirge, or the discord 
of a will. His wordly goods and chattels are hardly 
sufficient to induce the squabbling of greedy heirs. 
Thus lives and thus departs the lazzaroni. But 
Diogenes, in faith, was a fool to those fellows. He 
was one of your ancient lazzaroni, who lived in indo- 
lence and dirt, and yet the world dubbeth him Phi- 
losopher par excellence ; while a thousand of his 
confreres doze unnoticed along yon sunny market- 
place. The one lived in a tub, the other dwells in a 
basket. But the one is called a noble stoic, the other 
a shameless vagrant. The police don't allow men to 
live in tubs now-a-days. It would seem like evading 
the house-tax. And if any eccentric character, in imi- 
tation of the Grecian philosopher, should be caught 
running about in the day-time with a lantern in his 
hand, he would, possibly, be indicted for a burglarious 
intent to commit arson. The oddities of ancient 



256 Memoeies over the Water. 

philosophy would hardly be tolerated at the present 
day, though any one might have the same inclination 
and equal reason. The fellow with the lantern, instead 
of finding the object sought, would most likely be 
introduced to the janitor of a Lunatic Asylum — Sic 
tempora mutant^ et mores. 

While in Naples we went to see the tomb of Virgil, 
and found the resting-place ascribed to the old Latin 
poet, situated in a wild, romantic spot, just above the 
mouth of the Grotto Posilipo. The tomb is now noth- 
ing more than an old stone apartment, about six feet 
square, cold and bare, containing only a white marble 
slab, apparently of recent manufacture, but bearing 
this inscription : 

Mantua me genuifc, Gaiabres rapuere, 

Tenet nunc Parthenope, cecini pascua, rura duces. 

The roof of the tomb is overgrown with matted 
grass, and weeds tangled with rose-bushes. In 
memory of the old author, the friend and companion 
of our school-boy days, we gathered a leaf from off 
the sod, that grew lonely and neglected above his 
head. 

We also made the tour of the Museum, where we 
saw the Farnese Hercules and the Farnese Bull ; two 
of the most celebrated specimens of ancient sculpture. 
Hercules is leaning, in an attitude of repose, against 
a stone, over which is thrown the hide of the Nemean 
lion, while the club of the hero is resting at his side. 
The left-hand he holds behind him, which contains 
the three golden apples, stolen from the gardens of the 



Memories over the Water. 257 

Hesperides. On the base of the statue we found, in 
Greek letters, the inscription: {Glukon Athanaios 
Eporei.) The Farnese Bull is a beautiful group in mai - 
ble, said to have been sculptured from a single block. 
It is a very complicated piece of workmanship ; repre- 
senting two men binding Dirce to the horns of an infu- 
riated bull, while a dog stands by, barking up into the 
face of the captive animal. This group is the reputed 
work of the two Grecian brothers — ApoUonius and 
Theoriscus. While in this hall we fell in love with 
the statue of a water girl ; a creature of the most 
exquisite form and face. She is just stepping into the 
edge of the water, and seems smiling at the reflection 
of her own beauty in the crystal wave. 

Among other objects of interest in the Museum we 
saw several antique frescoes, found in the excavation 
of Pompeii, and the glassware used by its inhab- 
itants ; a cameo, said to be the finest in the world, 
and found in the tomb of the Emperor Hadrian ; it is 
supposed to have been used by him as a drinking cup ; 
a petrified loaf of bread, with the name of the baker 
stamped thereon, said to have been taken from the 
shop of a bread-vender in Pompeii ; a complete 
assortment of medical and dental instruments; the 
various articles of a lady's toilet — rouge not excepted; 
lamps, bathing-tubs, drinking cups, inkstands, cook- 
ing-stoves, stocks for criminals, vases, locks, keys, 
scales, weights, stamps, and Greek and Roman 
armor, all dug up from the ruins of " the city of the 



258 Memories over the Water. 

dead." We even saw the skull of the Roman sentinel, 
encased in his helmet, who stood and perished at his 
post, at the gate of the city, when Pompeii was over- 
whelmed ; a striking instance of the extent to which 
discipline in the Eoman soldier was carried. We 
saw, too, the fierce dog in mosaic, with the inscrip- 
tion at his feet, "Cave Canem," that covered the 
floor of the Vestihulum^ in the House of Glaucus, as 
described by Bulwer in his "Last Days of Pompeii." 
Also, the splendid mosaic, representing the battle 
between Darius and Alexander, taken from the House 
of Diomede. 

Along the Strada Toledo — the Broadway of Naples — 
the stranger finds much to amuse, but more to annoy 
him. Among some of the '' tableaux vivants " he will 
see many old men and women, sitting behind their 
stalls, with piles of copper coin upon their coun- 
ters. These are the " Gambia Monete," or money 
changers for the rabble route. The profits of this 
brokerage must be most beggarly, and yet there they 
sit with all the dignity and importance of a Wall 
street merchant. We wonder if they are quoted on 
change ! Then there are the cabmen — a difierent 
class of men — who hiss and crack their whips, and 
cry " Signor " at you as you pass ; and if you will 
not deign them a notice they will sometimes drive 
their shabby vehicles along by your side, keeping 
pace with you for some hundred yards, and not unfre- 
quently check their cabs directly across your path, to 



Memories over the Water. 259 

impede your progress, and, if possible, to compel you 
to get in and ride ; for which kindness you feel a 
strong inclination to knock the rascals from their 
boxes, from which, however, you are deterred by the 
reflection that you are thereby waging w^ar with 
nothing to gain and all to lose. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

On the evening of the 26th of November we made 
an early rise, and finding the heavens free of clouds 
we prepared to visit the ruins of Pompeii. We had a 
rank republican for our guide, who informed us that 
the king spent the greater part of his time at his 
palace in the country, and seldom came to Naples for 
fear of being assassinated. Indeed wherever and when- 
ever in Italy we were enabled to converse with the 
populace, we found a republican, or at least a revo- 
lutionary spirit running riot through their thoughts. 
But at nine o'clock, a. m., we were on the move from 
the railway station, and winding along the shore of 
the bay, now looking out upon its joyous waters, 
and now darting through immense quarries of lava, 
we passed by Portici, Eesini, Torre del Greco, Torre 
del Annunciata, and moving partly around the base 
of Vesuvius we were deposited at the Pompeii station. 
Along the route we observed cotton growing, but the 
stalks were small, the bolls dirty and undeveloped, 
and the quality of the cotton, of course, indifierent. 
At Hotel Diomede one of the guides, in government 
uniform, took us in charge, and ascending a slight 
rise of ground we stood amid the ruins of Pompeii. 

(260) 



Memories oyer the Water. 261 

You do not descend into the ground, as we had been 
led to suppose, to enter this fated city ; the entire 
superstratum of lava, ashes and soil, has all been 
removed, and the naked walls of the city lie before 
you, but robbed of their chief beauty and valuables. 
We entered ''the city of the dead" on part of the 
old Appian Way, in whose stone pavements you may 
still trace the mark of wheels. The streets of Pompeii 
are very narrow, the houses very small and generally 
of one story only — but were most elegantly and luxu- 
riously furnished. They are not so high nor spacious 
as the buildings of modern times. Their construction 
was curious, but most convenient. You enter by the 
vestihulum into the atrium^ round which are ranged 
the cubicula. In the center of the atrium is the 
impluvitim^ a receptacle for the water in time of 
rain, as the atrium is unprotected by any roof. In the 
rear of the atrium is the peristylum. All of these 
apartments are on a small scale, and to judge from 
the size of their dining-rooms one would conclude 
that the citizens of Pompeii esteemed it eminently 
ungenteel to give large entertainments. 

The work of excavation is still going on at Pompeii. 
According to the map, much of the city still remains 
under-ground, though it is probable the best portion 
has been disentombed. Mosaics, frescoes, sculp- 
tures — all that bespeaks the perfection of art and 
civilization may here be found, and forming an over- 
whelming evidence of the luxury, genius and refine- 
ment of these people. Is ot only this, but such proof 



262 Memories over the Water. 

of their abandoned and licentious morals, such confir- 
mation of a lascivious and wanton brutality, that one 
cannot wonder that the judgments of Heaven should 
have fallen upon their heads, even to their utter ex- 
tinction as a city. It is both melancholy and humi- 
liating to wander through the empty rooms, stripped 
of their ornaments, save here and there some frag- 
ments of mosaic or some half-obliterated fresco — and 
to think that all our efforts are bounded by a bourne 
long since reached in these unburied walls, and that 
our boasted march of intellect has had a parallel in 
the calendar of time. The seal of two thousand years 
has been removed, and we discover the corpse of a 
mere provincial town of the Eoman Empire, arrayed 
in more than the laborious splendor of our most ex- 
alted capitals. In such a place the ghostly phantoms 
of by-gone grandeur rear their sable images before 
the explorer of the past, and with an unearthly great- 
ness haunt the soul. We feel that we are, at least, 
but imitators, and if all the inventions of past days 
could be rent from the dark cloud in which they are 
shrouded, w^e might blush for the boyishness of our 
pride. We shall not be surprised if they should one 
of these days find a telegraph office, or a steam engine 
with an improvement on the caloric principle, in one 
of the Eoman Yillas. A few of the singular features 
of Pompeii are the tombs, situated immediately on the 
public street ; also an assignation house immediately 
opposite the Temple of the Vestal Virgins. 

But for a brief outline of our explorations. We 



Memoeies oyer the Watek. 263 

went first to the House of Diomede, and descended 
into the wine cellars of the wealthy roue. These 
vaults consist of a long under -ground hall, running 
along the outer foundations of the building, forming 
three sides of a parallelogram. We saw there many 
of the old wine-jars, their contents, singular to relate, 
having been displaced and supplanted by the pene- 
trating ashes. The floors of this house were laid with 
mosaic. After exploring the dining-room, the fish- 
pond, and the wine-cooler, we proceeded up the Kue 
des Tombeaux — so called from the tombs and monu- 
ments erected on either side — and entered the city 
proper. Attached to one of these tombs, we saw the 
furnace used for burning the bodies of the dead. On 
the right-hand, as you enter the city, not far from the 
gate, there are circular seats of marble, where the 
priests were wont to sit and- converse on an afternoon. 
Around this circle we observed the following in- 
scription : 

Maximce^ P. F. Sace7'doti Publicce Locus. Sepul- 
tuT Datus Decurionum Decreto. 

We entered the city by the Porte d? IIerculanu7n^ 
and saw the spot, where the faithful Eoman soldier 
stood, and perished at his post. His skull, skeleton 
and helmet were found, and placed in the Museum. 
A good portion of the ancient walls of Pompeii still 
exist. We saw in one dilapidated house, the family 
altar, where the household made their private sacri- 
fice. On each of its four sides were appropriate 
frescoes. In the court-yards we found fountains, 



264 Memories over the Water. 

beautifully decorated with shells and mosaic. On the 
floor of the vestibulitm you may still trace the word — 
Salve — a beautiful custom, we thought, and indicative 
of the hospitable disposition of the Pompeian people. 
We saw restaurants, and baker-shops, with stoves for 
baking the bread and stones for grinding the grain, 
not very dissimilar from those of the present day. We 
entered the House of Sallust, containing several an- 
tique frescoes, among them the bathing scene of 
Diana and Actseon, the Eape of Europa, Mars and 
Venus, and other such-like representations. We saw 
the house of Pansa, the sedile, with its Corinthian 
columns and capitals in theperistylum. We saw the 
house of the tragic Poet, with its obscene frescoes, 
and drank a glass of wine in the Public Bath-House, 
whose arrangements of luxury and beauty far surpassed 
any of the present day. We visited the Temple of 
Fortune, situated at the corner of the street of Fortune 
and the street of Mercury. We entered the house of 
the Fountain, and the house of the Fawn, as also 
several shops for the sale of oil. We looked in at the 
House of the Musician, the last one exhumed at that 
time, with many pieces of statuary left, by request of 
the King, in the same position as when found. We 
saw the Temple of Isis, and stood in the room in 
which the six skeletons were discovered. Here we 
met a hideous remnant of humanity — a decrepid old 
man — a living emblem of the city about us — the 
hermit of the ruins — who on our approach began to 
blow most lustily on his pipes, at the same time 



Memories over the Water. 265 

making several lame efibrts at a shuffling dance. 
His reward was a few coppers, though as for his 
music we had rather paid him to be quiet. We saw 
the Theater for Tragedy, the Barracks, and the 
Theater for Comedy. On the floor of the last men- 
tioned there is a fine bronze inscription which reads 
thus — M, Olconius^ M, F. Verus. 11. Vir ;pro 
Ludis. 

We now went out beyond the city walls and visited 
the Amphitheater. The walls of the arena are 
rimmed with white marble slabs, and the building 
generally is in a fine state of preservation. The 
transverse axis is four hundred feet in length and the 
ordinate three hundred and fifteen. This visit con- 
cluded, we returned to the railway station, to be in 
readiness for the down-train at half-past three o'clock, 
p. M. Here we met several of the upper- ten lazza- 
roni, who, with their guitars, their songs and dances, 
beguiled our leisure time. We reached Naples again 
in due time, well pleased with our trip to Pompeii. 
While in Naples, we on one occasion met the Queen, 
on the Strada Chiaja. She was riding in rather a 
plain carriage, drawn by a single pair of fine bay 
horses, and preceded by a single outrider. Her 
Majesty has not a very prepossessing person. 

On the morning of the 28th of November we made 
an excursion out to Baise, down the Strada Chiaja, 
past the Villa Reale and the Tomb of Yirgil, and 
through the long, high-roofed and lamp-lighted Grotto 
Posilipo. The first thing on the day's programme 
22 



266 Memories over the "Water. 

was the Lago d'Agnano, a small body of water occu- 
pying the crater of an exhausted volcano. Here we 
found the famous Sulphur Baths, where you are 
steamed by the warm vapor that rises from out the 
soil. Next we proceeded, under the direction of a 
long-legged, slab-sided, cone-headed guide, to a cer- 
tain part of the lake, where hot water bubbles up in 
the midst of cold. Thence to the Grotto del Cane, 
from which arises a deadly gas. A torch, on being 
placed near the ground, was immediately extin- 
guished. An old woman had a little dog in readiness 
to show its effect upon an animate creature. The 
nose of the poor canine was thrust within reach of 
the noxious atmosphere, when he soon began to 
scuffle and make desperate efforts to escape. But his 
tormentor held him firmly, until his struggles began 
to relax. His energies seemed exhausted, and with 
tongue lolling from his mouth, and eyes rolling as if 
in the agonies of death, he grew perfectly still. He 
was now taken out and laid upon the ground ; when 
in a few moments he recovered, and went frisking 
about as gayly as ever. We went next to the crater 
of another exhausted volcano, which on being struck 
with a pole gave forth a hollow, rumbling sound, as 
if there were only a thin shell, upon which we stood, 
and beneath an immense gulf in the earth. Here 
we saw them manufacturing alum ; the furnace was 
simply the old Volcano, in whose crater we were 
standing, the heat from below being amply sufficient 



Memories oyer the Water. 267 

for the boiling of water. At one extremity of the 
crater we found a small cavern, through which the 
steam was roaring and hissing at a terrible rate. Its 
appearance was anything but pleasant, and we could 
almost imagine it the mouth of hell. We felt a 
pleasant relief when we got safely out from the 
crater. 

We next successively visited the Amphitheater, the 
Temple of Jupiter Serapis, the Temple of Diana, the 
Temple of Mercury, and the Temple of Yenus — all 
of which are now a medley of ruins. Then we saw 
the Lake of Avernus, an insignificant body of water, 
lying hard by the coast of the bay. Then saw Baiae, 
a succession of moldering walls and arches. Then 
the Lago del Fusara, the Mare Morto, and the famous 
Elysian Fields. From this point we returned to 
Naples, winding along the Bay of Baise, which w^e 
thought equal, in point of beauty, to the Bay of 
Naples. We passed by the Baths of Nero, the Lago 
Lucrino, and through the village of Pozzuoli. Again 
we entered the Grotto Posilipo, and soon after reached 
our hotel, with the conviction that the entire region of 
country round about Naples was of a most wonderful 
and extraordinary nature. The stranger, as he looks 
upon its many volcanoes — some exhausted, but many 
still in motion — almost fears to trust himself long in 
that country. On one side is. the old monster Vesu- 
vius, and on the other an uninterrupted succession of 
what were once volcanoes, and from whose white 



268 Memories over the Water. 

craters the smoke and steam still hiss. It would not 
be unreasonable to suppose that, some day or other 
the entire country will collapse, when a general blow- 
ing up and caving in shall change the whole aspect of 
that region. 

On reaching our hotel we were delighted to meet 
our old traveling companion, Brevard, of North 
Carolina, and Col. W. P. Bryan, of Nashville. 



CHAPTER XL. 



On the calendar of our days we "mark with a 
white stone" the 27th of November, 1851, for on that 
day we stood upon the summit of Mount Vesuvius. 
The weather was favorable, and about nine o'clock in 
the morning we set out from the hotel door. Our 
party numbered thirteen persons, eleven gentlemen 
and two ladies, and filled up two large traveling 
coaches. Thus mounted we rattled away from the 
Hotel des Etrangers, wound around the Strada 
Gigante, passed by the Royal Palace, and struck out 
into the broad and well-paved road, running along 
the eastern shore of the bay. At the village of 
Recini we all got out, and descended into the ancient 
city of Herculaneum, by means of steps hewn out of 
the solid bed of lava. Recini is built immediately 
over the ancient site of Herculaneum, and owing to 
this fact very little excavation has been made. We 
descended to a considerable depth into this voiceless 
city of the dead, and, under the pilotage of guides 
with torches, rambled through the corridors of an 
ancient theater, a large and handsome building, 
whose arrangement is not much dissimilar from the 

"" (269) 



270 Memories over the Water. 

theaters of the present day. This is about all that 
the traveler sees of Herculaneum. 

Ascending again to the light of day we made pre- 
paration for the ascent of Yesuvius. A majority of 
the gentlemen determined on walking from the vil- 
lage up to the summit of the mountain, a distance of 
several miles, and not to be outdone, we agreed to 
keep them company. On leaving Recini we were 
beset with a crowd of lazzaroni, who, with bundles of 
walking-canes in their hands, endeavored to torment 
us into a purchase. We had to beat one importunate 
scamp over the head with our overcoat, before we 
could get shed of him. But no sooner had we passed 
the outer limits of the village than a new persecution 
succeeded. This latter was a squad of lazzaroni, 
mounted on horses, who came capering and prancing 
about us, pronouncing all manner of encomiums on 
their steeds, and assuring us we would find the road 
very rough and fatiguing. This was of course done 
to induce us to hire a horse ; but we had determined 
on walking, and so pressed on without heeding their 
solicitations. The entire troop now fell behind, and 
were soon lost to sight. We concluded they had 
given over their hopes of making any profit out of our 
party, and had returned to the village. But in this 
we were much mistaken. It was only a ruse du 
guerre on the part of the adversary ; for suddenly we 
heard a great clattering of feet over the rocky road, 
and looking back we saw the same band of equestrians 
come racing on with whip and spur, whooping and 



Memories o^^r the Water. 271 

squalling like so many mad devils just broke loose 
from the caverns of Hades. On they dashed ; but on 
reaching the rear-guard of our party they reined in 
their horses, and again renewed their invitations for 
a ride. 

This sport v^as too much for our weakness to with- 
stand, and so bidding our comrades adieu, we took 
the pick of the crowd, paid the rider the price of a 
day's hire, and springing to the back of our mountain 
pony, we mingled in the crowd of lazzaroni, and lent 
our voice to the general cry of our Neapolitan com- 
rades. Our gallant little steed bore us bravely for- 
ward ; was fleet of limb, and strikingly like "Bullit," 
whom we had so often backed in the camp-hunts of 
Arkansas. Sagacious, sure-footed, and spirited ; 
spiteful too, he was, and would throw his heels with 
a perfect looseness on being provoked. A short ride 
now brought us to the Hermitage, where, in our anx- 
iety to press on, we left the remainder of our party, 
and with Clay, of New York, dashed on for the foot 
of tlie Cone, passing, in our route, the Observatory — 
a very neat and handsome building, and so situated 
on the back-bone of a high ridge as to be out of the 
reach of the lava in times of eruption. We now 
entered on that bleak and dreary field, that sweeps 
down from the brow of Vesuvius to the plains below; 
a scene of utter desolation. On its dark and dismal 
surface blooms no flower, grows no blade of grass. 
All is one mass of curled and crisped lava, as it 
rolled its blood-red tide from the mouth of Nature's 



272 Memories over the Water. 

great furnace, and cooling, clothed the mountain in 
a mantle of hideous gloom; bare and barren, and 
black as the hills of Tartarus. It is the violence of 
Nature in her most infernal form; whole miles of 
rough, up-turned lava, lying like huge masses of iron 
ore in wild disorder. Nothing could leave a more 
fearful memorial of the wrath of Vesuvius. War has 
its wreck, but also its returning bloom ; decay its 
herbage; the desert waste its palm and shrub; but 
here all is one dark, lifeless, joyless, mis-shapen 
region. But despite the dreary aspect a buoyant 
feeling was dancing in our heart, the spirit of excite- 
ment ran high in our veins, and we challenged our 
comrade to a race. No sooner offered than accepted, 
and away we sprang, with a hoop and wild halloo, 
along the flinty pathway, making the cavernous 
mountain-side echo with our merriment. Beside, a 
couple of lazzaroni had accompanied us on foot, hold- 
ing by the tails of our horses ; and no sooner did they 
see the premonitions of the race than, griping with 
a vice-like grasp their several tails, they held on 
like grim death, though we spurred on at the top of 
our speed. It was forsooth an odd and laughable 
sight — two horsemen going with whip and spur at a 
furious rate, over a rough and broken pathway, with 
a lazzaroni clinging to the tail of each horse, his long 
red cap dancing gayly in the breeze. It was a scene 
for the Lady Gay Spanker to portray. On reaching 
the foot of the Cone, we dismounted and commenced 
climbing toward the top of the Crater, leaving our 



Memories over the Water. 273 

horses in charge of a man below. Here again we 
were set upon by the lazzaroni, who would insist on 
helping us up. They kept close in our rear, and on 
the first indication of fatigue would renew the ofier 
of their assistance. But no, we obstinately met ob- 
stinacy ; and every now and then, as we paused for a 
breathing spell, we would lecture our persevering 
audience on their indelicate breach of good manners ; 
all of which, as they understood not a word that was 
said, they received with stupid respect. But Clay, at 
last, became weary and impatient, and accepted the 
assistance so eagerly profiered. One pulled him up 
in front, another pushed him up from behind ; and no 
sooner did they reach the top than they all made an 
enormous demand upon his purse. This was as we 
expected. With this hope they had perse veringly 
trotted the whole distance, and now, with some show 
of justice, they came down like locusts upon poor 
Clay. There was no refusing, and so he had to 
''shell out." Let but an Italian hold your coat for an 
instant, or touch your bridle-rein, and there is no 
getting rid of him without a heavy forfeit. 

The ascent of the Cone is exceedingly steep, and 
very laborious, owing to the rough and uncertain foot- 
ing. Every few moments we would pause to enjoy 
the view, which grew wilder and grander as we 
ascended. Naples and its famous bay — the islands of 
Capri and Ischia — the blue waves of the Mediterra- 
nean, and the wide-spreading plains, the hazy moun- 

23 



274 Memories over the Water. 

tains and yellow valleys, were all spread out in one 
glorious panorama ; while just above our heads rolled 
the sulphurous smoke from the mouth of the volcano, 
curling lazily away like some torpid serpent. On 
reaching the summit we drew on our overcoat, for the 
wind was now blowing high and chill. Without ven- 
turing any further we here awaited our friends below 
with the guide. They all soon made their appear- 
ance, some borne on the shoulders of the lazzaroni in 
a jport-a-cJiaise^ some assisted up as Clay was, and 
some independently as we ascended. At last we all 
stood upon the summit, and now placing ourselves 
under the direction of the guide, we proceeded over 
what seemed the bed of an exhausted crater, and 
next, scrambling through a dense cloud of sulphur- 
ous smoke, we stood upon the lip of the principal 
crater. The steam and smoke came boiling up from 
the abyss at our feet, and utterly prevented our look- 
ing down. The sulphur was so strong as almost to 
suffocate us, and we would frequently have to retreat 
a few steps to recover breath. We were told though, 
that this smoke was not only innoxious, but in fact 
beneficial to the lungs, and so we stood it out like 
martyrs. 

An old, gray-headed veteran, who had followed 
us from the foot of the Cone, now produced a bas- 
ket of refreshments, which, though not suited to the 
most fastidious palate, yet to men in our condition 
presented a most inviting display. Among other 



Memories over the Water. 275 

items were several bottles of wine, whose contents 
most magically disappeared. 

But just here, as we stood on the very verge of the 
crater, the dense clouds of smoke spouting up from 
the great caldron below, and wreathing themselves 
in fantastic shapes about our head, a thought of home 
and its bright-eyed beauties flashed over our mind. 
The blue-eyes of Nashville were before us, and as in 
imagination we traced their fairy forms in the sportive 
eddies of the whirling smoke, we raised a brimming 
bumper of the Lacryma Christi to our lips, and 
pledged all health and happiness "to the girl we left 
behind us." Anon a puff of wind would clear away 
the clouds of vapor that issued from the slumbering 
fires below, and revealed to our sight the forms of our 
companions, dimly seen through the cloudy vail, and 
moving like the misty spirits of the unknown land 
about the yawning mouth of that fearful pit, where 
"the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched." 
It was a capital idea of the ancients to suppose the 
existence of some Titanic form under this superin- 
cumbent mass, struggling to release itself, and with 
each effort belching forth his thick, hot breath. It is 
a miniature representation of the infernal regions, and 
likely to awaken serious reflections upon the locality 
and character of that much-disputed place. 

We remained on the top of the mountain about two 
hours, and then made our descent from the other side, 
through the deep cinders into which you sink ankle 



276 Memories oyer the Water. 

deep at every step. It is very steep, and if the doc- 
trine of specific gravity, as connected with equi- 
librium, be forgotten, one might lose his balance and 
shame the speed of steam ere he reached the bottom. 
But we all reached our hotel at Naples that evening, 
without a serious accident, well pleased with the day's 
adventures. For the novelty, the excitement and the 
dangers of this excui^sion, the ascent of Vesuvius far 
surpasses the generality of incidents in a European 
tour. 



CHAPTER XLI, 



At Naples we parted with our traveling companions, 
Ewing, Johnstone, McGavock, Price, and our knight 
of the razor, Frank Parrish ; they to bend their pilgrim 
steps toward the Holy Land, and we to winter in the 
gay capital of France. Brevard was to sail in a few 
days for Greece, Col. Kimmel had resolved to look upon 
the dark-eyed senoritas of Spain, while Bogan wished 
to linger longer by the Bay of Naples. And thus 
was our pleasant party dispersed in devious routes. 

At four o'clock, p. m., Fogg and ourself bade adieu 
to our friends, and taking a cab from the door of our 
hotel, we started for the steamer that was to bear us 
along the western shore of Italy to the city of Mar- 
seilles, on the coast of Southern France. On reaching 
the Molo we discharged our cabman, and were about 
having the baggage placed in the skiff, in waiting to 
receive it, when a fellow in uniform rushed up, and 
intimated that it was his peculiar province and privi- 
lege to inspect all baggage before its going aboard. 
We had been too much accustomed to such demands 
to demur, and so forthv\^ith whipped out our keys, 
and were about to unlock, when a gentle, quiet 

nudge in the side from the elbow of the official caused 

( 277 ) 



278 Memories over the Water. 

us to inquire, by our look of astonishment, '' What 
the devil he meant." Not receiving any verbal reply, 
we did not yet take^ and again proceeded to unlock, 
when a second gentle, quiet tap, and a significant 
twinkle in the eye of the ossifev at once revealed the 
mystery of his conduct. Without more ado we drop- 
ped some silver coin into his inviting palm, and 
followed our unopened baggage to the skifi*. He 
waved us an affectionate adieu — -a graceful hoii voy- 
age^ and we thought on the farce of government, the 
vanity of trust, the power of gold. In a few moments 
we reached the vessel's side, and paying off our jolly 
watermen, we sprung up the water-ladders and stood 
upon the deck, ''cribbed, cabined, and confined" 
aboard the steamer Capri, bound for the port of Civita 
Vecchia. 

It was about the set of sun when our little vessel 
slipped her cables, and sped rapidly out into the bay, 
passing by an American man-of-war, that was rock- 
ing lazily to the swell, as she lay anchored out in 
the harbor, her black-mouthed guns gaping on the 
city-walls, and the stars and stripes dancing in the 
evening breeze. A sight of that flag in a foreign 
land brings a tear of pride and joy to the eye of the 
wandering American, and the heart, with full voice, 
shouts — God bless the banner of the free! We 
lingered on the deck to take our farewell view of 
Naples and her glorious bay; of old Vesuvius and the 
bold, bare island of Capri ; of St. Elmo and Castel-a-e- 
mare; all bathed in a flood of golden sun-light — 



Memories over the Water. 279 

blushing under the soft warm kiss of the setting sun. 
As night came on we rounded Cape Miseum, and 
stood out in open ocean. But now the dinner 
bell — "that tocsin of the soul" — sent its summons 
through the cabin. The ground-swell was heavy 
and few had the heart to look dinner in the face. 

But F and ourself had fasted since breakfast, 

and so repaired, with the courage of Csesar, to the 
attack. We sat down with the air of one who had 
seen salt water before, and dashed right gallantly 
into the smoking viands. A few moments rolled 
silently by, when on looking up we thought a shade 
of deepest melancholy seemed to flit for an instant 
over the face of our friend. He laid gently down his 
knife and fork, and paused, as if the soft memory of 
some fond hour were brooding on his heart. The 
spell passes away. Again he resumes the weapons 
of destruction, and falls fearfully to work. But the 
phantom dream has come again. His soul seems to 
heave like the billows below. The shadow of some 
deep sorrow steals over the now anxious face. Pain 
and grief speak in his mournful eyes. A narrow 
twitching of the mouth tells of the struggle that is 
going on. But see ! his emotions overcome him. 
He rises from his seat and rushes from the cabin — 
Neptune's spasmodic victim. 

There is a romance about the ocean, but it shows bet- 
ter from the shore to many poetically disposed and — 
biliously inclined. It requires only one sea-emetic to 
dash the beauty and poetry of ocean into dream-land. 



280 Memories oyer the Water, 

In the eyes of a ship-steward few men are heroes. 
The ocean, like death, is a great leveler. It takes the 
starch out of human dignity, and is an excellent 
moralist on the vanity of pride. Napoleon Bonaparte 
could not stand the sea, and the rebellious Eoman 
had not yet embarked when he talked so proudly of 
"Caesar and his fortunes." Byron was in the habit, 
it is said, of ''playing familiar with ocean's hoary 
locks," while the old fellow, doubtless, reciprocated 
the compliment by playing familiar with the poet's 
stomach. Csesar, we venture to say, has, like any 
other saltwater victim, felt an intense inclination to 
turn himself inside out like you would a turkey's 
gizzard ; and Bonaparte gazed for hours at vacuity 
with that defiant air, something like the look a negro 
would throw out in giving Hamlet's soliloquy. But 
shades of the departed forgive us ! 

Would you see then the photographic picture of the 
modern victim ? Mark that young man coiled up in 
the corner of yonder lounge, like a torpid constrictor 
basking in the sun. One would suppose from the 
desperate energy with which he has fastened on his 
hat that he never intended to take it ofi* in this w^orld. 
He is in the last stage of a temporary relaxation — in 
the negative enjoyment of bilious repose. He is at 
this moment comparatively happy, and fondly im- 
agines the last link that bound him to his breakfast 
is broken. But were you barbarian enough to whis- 
per " gravy!" in his ear, the evil spirits would gather, 
and you would see him looking steadfastly down into 



Memories oyer the Water. 281 

the ocean like a searcher after truth. But alas! what 
to him is the '' deeply, darkly, beautifully blue!'' 
What the pale stars and the unwritten poetry of the 
Ideal ! — The music of the mermaid or the love-inciting 
breath of the pure heaven! Nothing! The things 
of yesterday and to-day are before his eyes — relics of 
joy — fleeting and painful! It is the highest bur- 
lesque of pathos — indeed in the whole history of broken 
hearts there is nothing so touching as the languid 
''go away now" of a sea-sick damsel. It is most 
pathetic — most distressing — and perhaps the only 
time when one willingly obeys the '' go away " of a 
pretty mouth. 

On rising the morning after our departure from 
Naples we went out on deck and found the bright 
sun breaking beautifully over the blue waves of this 
classic ocean. The sea was calm and still, and on 
looking toward the land we discovered we were ap- 
proaching the harbor of Civita Vecchia. Soon our 
little steamer lay snugly anchored; but as we did not 
have our passport visaed for this port we were not 
permitted to go ashore. By the help of " David 
Copperfield," letter-writing and day-dreaming, we 
managed to while away the long idle day. About 
five o'clock, p. M., we again slipped cables, and turn- 
ing our prow northward, we passed, in the silent 
hours of midnight, by that famous isle, where France's 
exiled chieftain for a time was caged. On the morn- 
ing following we rose just as our steamer was putting 
in at the port of Leghorn, and found it cold and 



282 Memories over the Water. 

raining. But about eleven o'clock the shower was 
over, and in company with a goodly number of our 
fellow- passengers we left the steamer and were soon 
landed at the wharf. Jumped aboard the cars and 
paid a flying visit to Pisa. Crossed the Arno in a 
cab, and visited the Cathedral, the Baptistery, the 
Campo Santo and the famous Leaning Tower. From 
the top of the Campanile we had a fine view of the 
Apennines. Pisa is a small but handsome city, silent 
and noiseless as the desert, while Leghorn is a busy, 
populous, thriving sea-port. We returned in time 
to get aboard our boat, and at five o'clock we weighed 
anchor and again were on our way northward, still 
skirting along the western coast of Italy. About one 
o'clock that night we landed at '' Genova la Superba." 
On rising the next morning we found ourself quietly 
lying in a most magnificent harbor, around which the 
city of Columbus stretched its promontories in a pro- 
tecting embrace. A view of the city from the harbor 
is picturesque in the extreme. As we stepped ashore 
we could but think how much more readily had we 
crossed from the far-foreign shores of America — ■ 
scoured over the continent of Europe — and landed at 
his native city, than had the discoverer of the New 
World reached his daring flight, in his frail bark, 
across the watery waste of the trackless deep. The 
day was cool, and bracing, and beautifully fair ; the 
sea as calm as beauty's sleep, and the mountains that 
rise abruptly up from the water's edge seemed the 
.guardians of its slumbers. We spent the greater part 



Memories over the Water. 283 

of that day in scrambling over the lofty hills, in rear 
of the city, drinking in the health-giving air, and en- 
joying many glorious views, over the mountain and 
over the valley, over the city and over the sea. Still 
upward would we climb, and following round the 
long line of frowning forts and cannon -mounted walls, 
the silence broken only by the song of the peasant 
girl, as she hied from the city to her cottage-home 
in the opposite valley, or by the lonely tread of the 
solitary sentinel pacing his hourly round — we de- 
scended again into the walled town. On our way 
down we passed by what we thought the house of 
Columbus, from observing on its walls a fresco repre- 
senting a mailed figure pointing down at a globe at 
his feet, whereon were traced the name and continent 
of America. 

The streets of Genoa are very narrow, and abound 
in donkeys, fruit and women. The palaces in the 
Strada Nuova are superb. They seem formed to 
laugh at time. What a glorious place Genoa must 
have been in the days of its pride ! when all this 
silent and decaying splendor had a soul — when the 
princely Dorias ruled over land and sea, and the light 
of incessant revelry flashed along these marble walls. 
But now the remnants of her proud nobility, the in- 
mates of her lofty palaces, too poor to light their fes- 
tive fires, are content to sport the relics of their splen- 
dor in the foyer of a theater, and like true philoso- 
phers, waltz and laugh as joyously as though their 
ancestral halls were still the scene of their gayety. 



284 Memories oyer the Water. 

The women are not pretty, but their costume is capti- 
vating in the extreme. They wear a thin white vail, 
thrown loosely over the head, which falls gracefully 
back, saucily dancing as they walk. They look very 
picturesque, especially when kneeling in the dim light 
of the cathedral. The churches give evidence of the 
former wealth and superstition of Roman Catholi- 
cism. To the bare walls and Gothic chastity of 
the North succeed the rich ornament, the luxurious 
profusion of the South. Spiritual influence stands 
embodied in all its pomp. Shrines of untold cost — 
pillars of the rarest stone — walls encased in marble — 
gilt altars and frescoed ceilings — all attest the enthu- 
siasm of devotion, the influence of priestly power, 
and Papal veneration. Step into the Cathedral at 
what hour you will, some penitent is kneeling — some 
mass is saying — some vesper pealing. Turn to the 
other chapels on your route, the same scene presents 
itself: one crowd of devotees follows another in suc- 
cessive prayer, and were it not for the wicked glance 
of some frail worshiper, as she tells her rosary, one 
would suppose the Italian world thought but of 
Heaven. Breathed but comprehended not is their 
fervent orison, and the moral light of the Godhead 
streams as dimly on their vision as the dying rays 
of the sun struggling through the stained glass, and 
falling faintly on the deep fret- work, the faded paint- 
ings and hidden sculpture of their solemn cathedral. 
Yet there is a winning beauty, a breathing poesy in 
the Roman religion that will enchant her votaries for 



Memories over the Water. 285 

ages to come. Through the avenues of the senses 
she wins her way ; while the Protestant mother leads 
her children along the rugged paths of reason. But 
in the realms of intellect, and not of outward sense, 
should the mind worship its Creator. The spirit of 
devotion should seek an humble, yet a lofty flight. 
The human mind must be disabused of the trammels 
of ignorance and superstition. The infallibility of 
God alone must be recognized, and that worship, to 
which presumptuous man has oft aspired, be rendered 
only to the High Jehovah. Yet it were hardly mor- 
tal for the heir to the Throne of St. Peter willingly 
to part with his patrimony. The ambition of the 
Pontiff would rather die, like a warrior, sword in 
hand, than surrender that tiara before which king and 
emperor have bowed and were subservient ; to sink 
from his high pinnacle, and forego forever the dazzling 
hope of former power. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

We left Genoa on the evening of the 2d of Decem- 
ber, and arrived at Marseilles early on the following 
morning. After getting clear of the clever little 
steamer " Capri/' we went ashore and put up at the 
"Hotel des Empereurs." As we passed along the 
busy streets we observed that some intense excitement 
was manifest on the faces of the citizens, and on 
inquiring into the cause, we learned that news had 
just been received by telegraph, from Paris, an- 
nouncing that Louis Napoleon, the Prince President, 
dissenting with the National Assembly, had suddenly 
turned that body politic neck and heels out of Coun- 
cil, and had appealed to the people to support him in 
the j)roceeding. This was of course productive of a 
most startling effect throughout the whole of France, 
and in Marseilles the authorities seemed apprehensive 
of a general riot. To suppress any such demonstra- 
tion the entire garrison was called out, and a large 
detachment of soldiers, horse, foot and artillery, lined 
the broad and handsome street, on which our hotel 
was situated. The people seemed highly incensed, 
and though they dared not, under the frown of fifty 
cannon, openly rebuke this high-handed movement, 

( 286 ) 



Memories oyer the Water. 287 

yet they marched about the streets waving their hats 
and shouting Vive la Rejnibliqite! We thought, as 
we looked from our hotel window upon the frantic 
crowd, upon the days of the Jacobins and of the 
Marseilles Hymn. 

But we were anxious to reach Paris, which we 
thought would soon prove the theater of a bloody 
revolution, and so at half-past three o'clock, p. m., 
took our seat in the Diligence, and started for the 
railway station. Here the body of the Diligence, 
passengers, baggage and all, w^as lifted, by means of 
machinery arranged for the purpose, from off the 
wheels and deposited on an empty wagon of the train. 
At four o'clock we were on the move, and about ten 
o'clock that night reached that old seat of revelry, 
Avignon, on the Rhone. Here, without a moment's 
pause, we were again lifted, in a similar manner as 
before, from off the train, and placed again on wheels, 
whose motive power was horse-flesh. Our tough 
coursers are immediately attached, and away we 
rattle, with a clatter, a jolt and a thump, following 
up the left bank of the ''arrowy Ehone" toward 
the city of Lyons. And now our sufferings. All 
that long, weary night, we traveled on, driving too, 
like Jehu, the infernal old Diligence keeping up 
just such a din as would a wagon loaded with 
long iron bars over a rough road — rattle, rattle, 
rattle — until we thought our tympanum would give 
way. Only one incident served to break the weari- 
some monotony, and shed some amusement over 



288 Memories over the Water. 

the tedious hours. At Valence we stopped for 
dinner, and on resuming our seats found that we 
democrats of the Eotonde had an additional com- 
panion — a fat, chuffy, bull-headed specimen of a frog- 
eater — who sat just opposite and facing Mrs. B . 

During the night we were suddenly roused from our 
dozing by a terrific hubbub in our apartment of the 
Diligence. On rubbing our eyes and collecting our 
scattered senses, we saw by the light of the waning 

moon Mr. B cuffing the Frenchman over the head 

with might and main, while Mrs. B made night 

vocal with her screams. It seems the garlic-eating 
Gaul had, under the cover of darkness, been taking 
improper liberties with the American lady, and to 
which she had called the attention of her husband, 

who sat just by her side. Mr. B waited to see 

the movement of the fellow repeated, and thereby 
assuring himself he could not be mistaken, had, with- 
out one word of warning, fired away at the French- 
man's head with all the force of his arm. The blow, 
coming thus unexpectedly upon the licentious rascal, 
put a most abrupt termination to his soft dalliance, 
and so discomfited him that, without the least pre- 
tension to any hostile demonstration, he only sought 
to avoid the rapid blows of his assailant, which now 
came showering about his ears like a hailstorm. 
The harmony of the scene was beautifully diversified 
by the protestations of — ^^Doucement^ Doucement^ 
Monsieur^'' on the part of the Frenchman; "You 
d — n villain, d — n villain," with each blow of the 



Memories oves the Water. 289 

rabid American ; and the shrill screams of Mrs. 

B . But not content with hammering away with 

his fist, the fiery little New Yorker had braced him- 
self against the side of the Diligence, and calling his 
heels into service, was letting them fly into the 
Frenchman's belly with a perfect looseness of limb 
and desperation of purpose. At last, however, he 
became satisfied ; while Monsieur, all the time, was 
protesting most lustily at being thus maltreated. It 
was, forsooth, a scene so confoundedly ridiculous that 
we laughed until the tears started to our eyes. The 
next morning the battered champion of gallantry pre- 
tended to be exceeding drowsy, kept his bruised face 
concealed under the folds of his cloak, and at the first 
village made his disappearance, having learned a 
most practical lesson as to the difierence between an 
American wife and a French grisette. 

But again to our route. With what rapidity French 
postillions change horses ! A curse, a kick, a crack 
of the w^hip, and all is over. One has scarcely time 
to poise a fiask of wine upon the lips before the huge 
machine is again in motion. It would be rather 
amusing to see a Diligence break into an American 
village ! It would create a greater sensation than a 
menagerie. The postillion's boots would be the first 
point of attack for the young democracy ; his short- 
tailed coat the next ; and should he unfortunately be 
undersized, so as to make the mass of leather about 
his posterior show to advantage, there is no telling 

what might be the consequence. What a laugh the 
24 



290 Memories over the Water. 

boisterous stage-driver would raise, as he criticised 
the dimensions, the singular internal arrangement, 
and the terrible weight of the mammoth vehicle, pro- 
phesying death to any team that might be hitched to 
that car of Juggernaut ! What a contemptuous sneer 
would our four-in-hand Jehues indulge in, as they 
looked upon the postillions mounted on the backs 
of the team ! Some Brummel of a saddler might 
pronounce an emphatic "d — n," as he looked upon 
the gear, and ironically inquire — "Say, Johnson, 
where did you get your harness ? " 

At any rate we found our lumbering old machine a 
perfect purgatory. Fatigue gives way to impatience, 
impatience to desperation, and desperation to illness. 
Between the cold air and the infernal racket we were 
now chilled into teeth-chattering, and now burning 
with fever. Thursday, December 4th, 1851, ''we 
mark with a hlach stone" on the calendar of our 
days. All that day we went jolting on. Not even 
the smile of a bright eye at the village inn, nor a 
tempting dejeuner a la fourchette could appease us. 
At last about ten o'clock on the succeeding night we 
reached the city of Lyons, and as we stepped out of 
the miserable old Diligence, which for some thirty-six 
consecutive hours had been a rack of torture to our 
feverish frame, we mentally vowed that not a forty 
horse-power could ever force us into another, if there 
was one earthly chance of traveling by any other 
conveyance. But getting into a cab we drove to 
"Hotel du Nord," and having ordered a fire in our 



Memories oyer the Water. 291 

room went straightway to bed. The next morning 
we felt badly enough. Got up though, drank a cup 
of tea, and went immediately to bed again. Suffice 
it to say, that for three days we were confined in our 
room with a raging fever. Mr. and Mrs. Brady were 
to have gone immediately on to Paris. But on seeing 
our condition Mrs. Brady, with woman's true instinct, 
informed her husband that he must remain over a few 
days; to which he kindly consenting, she set dili- 
gently to work to break our fever. Without suffering 
us to send for a physician, she hovered like some 
ministering angel about our pillow, supplying our 
wants with the care and tenderness of a sister. 
Without one claim upon her consideration, saving the 
fact of our being sick and a stranger in the land, she 
was to us the good Samaritan. The reflection that a 
countryman of her own — between whom and his 
home lay many a weary mile, rolled many a restless 
billow — was ill, was of itself sufficient to enlist her 
warmest sympathies. But her heart was most gentle, 
most kindly in its nature. We have known her on 
ship-board, when some rebellious sailor had trans- 
gressed the commands of his officer, and, as a penalty 
for the offense, lay in his cold quarters in irons, and 
without food, to seek the rough officer, and implore 
for her sake his release. When the grateful memory 
of her kindness to us shall fade, may we have no 
gentle hand about our pillow to charm the weary 
hours of illness into halcyon moments. Enough to 
pay, that under the care of an ovorruling Providence, 



292 Memories over the Water. 

and with the kind and skillful nursing of our new 
made friend, we started again for Paris on the 7th, 
taking a steamboat up the Soane to Chalons. From 
that day we parted not company until together we 
landed at the of New York. 

As we drove through the streets of Lyons in the 
early hours of morning, from the hotel to the steamer, 
we observed here a picket of dragoons, their horses 
equipped and standing in line, ready for service at a 
moment's warning ; there a group of infantry, sitting 
round their camp-fires, their arms stacked hard-by, 
and the flickering light flashing in their rough, 
bearded faces, and dancing over their red uniforms. 
On reaching the boat, we descended into her cabin, 
where we were soon visited by a couple of officers, 
who requested the privilege of looking at our pass- 
ports. In scanning over the group of passengers 
there assembled, we were agreeably surprised again 
to greet the bright eyes of the " Kussian Bride." We 
subsequently met her on the '' Champs Elysees" of 
Paris. Our little steamer was warm and comfortable, 
but most curiously constructed. Its length from stem 
to stern was immense, while the breadth of beam was 
only a few rods. It resembled in fact a long, keen 
arrow, and plowed the current of the stream most 
beautifully. The Soane has many cities, towns and 
villages along its banks, and is spanned by suspen- 
sion bridges innumerable. It was at this time full in 
its banks, and perfectly alive with other steamers 
plying on its bosom, and all built after the singular 



Memories over the Water. 293 

fashion of our own. We reached Chalons about 
noon, and immediately took the express train for 
Paris. About ten o'clock that night we were de- 
posited at our destination, and though we had heard 
the city gates were closed against strangers, we found 
no difficulty in obtaining entrance. Taking a cab we 
proceeded to the ''Hotel du Paris," along the lamp- 
lighted streets of the gay capital, which only a few 
days past witnessed the bloody and singularly suc- 
cessful coup cVetat of Louis Napoleon, then the Prince 
President, now the self-elected Emperor of France. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 



We left Paris on the 30th of August, and returned 
again December the 7th, having in the meanwhile tra- 
versed France, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy. We 
left the laughter-loving city, all quietude and peace, 
and found on our return a most rigid military sur- 
veiUance prevailing, the mouths of the citizens locked 
from fear of arrest, and the doctrine that ''might is 
right" most practically proclaimed. Louis IS^apoleon 
had, with an armed force, expelled the members of the 
National Assembly, sufiering the more timid and 
inoffensive to go at large, but placing the bolder 
spirits of that body under arrest. A bloody emeute 
had succeeded this expulsion, provoked by the indig- 
nant members of the Senate. It was soon quelled, 
but with the loss of some five hundred ouvriers. 
They fought behind barricades, which were either 
blown down by the artillery, or stormed by the lancers. 
Many of the soldiers were killed by shots fired from 
the windows of the Boulevards, while their com- 
rades in turn peppered the houses right and left with 
their bullets. The struggle w^as a brief one only; and 
Louis Napoleon soon had his heel upon the neck of 

the Empire. But at the time of our arrival the city 
'294) ■ 



Memories over the Water. 295 

was still in a state of great excitement, and in mo- 
mentary expectation of again seeing the streets run 
blood. The Prince President had shown an undis- 
puted courage, an unflinching firmness, and a singu- 
lalr foresight in his every movement. He had made 
his great uncle the guiding-star of his action, and no 
sooner were his designs conceived than triumphantly 
carried out. He had successively issued appeals to 
the army and to the people, and appointed the 21st of 
December a day for the exercise of universal suffrage 
on his conduct, whether approved of or condemned by 
the French nation at large. With this seeming show 
of honesty of purpose — this apparent disposition to 
abide by the decision of the people — combined with 
his gallant daring and the prestige of a glorious 
name, he had won upon the admiration of the French, 
and so encircled himself with the dazzling eclat of his 
achievements, that the entire nation stood stupefied 
and bewildered, while he rode on in proud defiance to 
secure his now precarious footing. He had adopted 
the plan best calculated to exalt him in the estimation 
of the French. They have no mercy for awkward- 
ness, either in manner or in murder. Do a thing 
gallantly, bravely, completely, and all the atrocity of 
the action will be lost and forgotten in the glory of 
successfully achieving your purpose* It seems to be 
one of their greatest characteristics to get up an idol 
for themselves in the person of some man whom they 
imagine vastly superior to anybody else. They have, 
too, an exceeding fondness for outward formula, a 



296 Memories oyer the Water. 

reverence for a certain finish of procedure, and an 
intense passion for the denoiiement. Some spicy and 
observant writer has said that — "If a Frenchman 
should accidentally stab his father with a table-knife, 
his greatest regret would be, that it was not a 
poniard." 

On reaching Paris w^e learned, with much regret, 
that an old traveling companion — Lieutenant Jones, 
of the United States' navy — had been shot down 
during the late bloody emeute^ enacted on the Boule- 
vards. He was our companion in a very amusing 
adventure on the Rialto at Venice, and little thought, 
while skipping so spryly over the Piazza San Marco, 
of the sad fate which awaited him. So soon as we 
could discover his address we called and found him 
in a very crippled condition. He informed us that he 
had gone out to witness the excitement, but never 
for an instant dreaming that there was danger in 
walking the streets. He was standing in a crowd of 
citizens — men, women and children — looking on at 
the evolutions of the military on the Boulevards ; a 
shot was fired from a window among the soldiers, 
when they turned and deliberately poured a volley 
into the mass of people before them. Our friend was 
among the first that fell, his left leg badly shattered 
by a ball, and the fore-finger of his left hand-shot 
entirely away. The assembled multitude of course 
dispersed with headlong speed, while the killed and 
the wounded lay neglected in the street till the close 
of day. Our friend was then taken up, among the 



Memories over the Water. 297 

rest, and carried to the military hospital, and thence 
removed, by his request, to his lodgings on Eue St. 
Honore. It was at first thought it would be necessary 
to .amputate his leg ; but he determined on saving it, 
at the risk of his life. When we left Paris, at the 
beginning of the following spring, he was still lying 
in a precarious situation. The poor fellow had never 
been enabled, for several months, even to change his 
position in bed. 

Our first care on returning to Paris — after our long 
ramble through Switzerland, Germany, and Italy — 
was to secure a pleasant local habitation. This we 
managed to do at No. 5 Eue du Dauphin. Our 
apartments were situated in one of the most agreeable 
portions of the city, within a few steps of the Tuil- 
leries Gardens and Palace, and convenient to the 
Louvre, the Champs Elysees, the Boulevards, the 
Theaters, the Opera Houses, and the Ball Eooms. 
On an afternoon we would generally sally forth, and 
turning in at the Tuilleries Gardens, stroll down their 
entire length ; then, crossing the magnificent Place de 
la Concorde, loiter along up the Champs Elysees as 
far as the Triumphal Arch at the barriere de I'Etoile. 
Here one may see the leau and the mauvais monde 
of Paris turn out in all their glory for an afternoon 
promenade — some on foot, some on horseback, some 
driving tandems, and some lolling lazily in their lux- 
urious coaches. There goes the coxcomb, twirling 
his delicate white cane with soft hand encased in 
Alexander gloves, his attenuated nether limbs impri- 
25 



298 Memories over the Water. 

soned in pants which fit as though he had been melted 
and poured in, his shining beaver sitting jauntily on 
one side of his head, and his glib tongue discoursing 
on the merits of the last opera. There move grace- 
fully along a pair of beauteous ladies, lifting their 
white skirts over the dry pavement, and just high 
enough to show the prettiest ankle and neatest bootee 
in the world. The sweetest smile imaginable is 
playing over their cheeks, which blush under the 
tints of the magic rouge, yet blushing and bewitching 
nevertheless. Here sits some old beldam, grinding 
away on her hand-organ, while her little dog, dressed 
up in red jacket and pants, sits piteously upon his 
hind-legs, and with a small cup in his mouth invites 
you to deposit. A little higher up, where the crowd 
is not so dense, you may see some mendicant fellow, 
with a whole regiment of dogs that perform all man- 
ner of capers under his instruction. A crowd always 
gathers here, and the dog-trainer reaps a rich harvest 
of sous. Out there under the trees you find Punch 
and Judy ever engaged in their domestic tragedies. 
A few rods beyond is an auctioneer of cosmetics, 
warranted to render the worst complexion surpassing 
fair. The voluble vender of the ''saponaceous com- 
pound" is an orator of the first stamp. Hear his 
invitation — '' Venez ! venez ! Messieurs ! Ici, ici ! 
chose extraordinaire!" You approach his stand; 
when immediately you are honored with an especial 
notice. ''Pardon, Messieurs. Place pour Monsieur; 
par ici — pardon — non — par la! bien! voila, Monsieur." 



Memories over the Water. 299 

And he offers a small box for your inspection, at the 
same time descanting most eloquently on its virtues, 
and concluding with — ''Pour deux francs; deux 
francs ' seulement ! " Of course this gentleman is 
extensively patronized by the beauty-cultivating Pa- 
risians ; and many a credulous victim hands up his 
two francs, and pockets the object of his purchase 
with such a smile of intense satisfaction that you 
might imagine he had in his fancy already become a 
Hyperion. Farther out among the trees you may see 
whole troops of tidily dressed children, attended by 
their nurses, who indulge them in a ride upon the 
flying-horses, or a sail in one of the many boats sus- 
pended in the air, and made to imitate the rocking of 
a vessel. 

Such are some of the ''tableaux vivants" that 
attract the stranger's eye, as he takes his afternoon 
stroll up the Champs Elysees. Everybody seems 
amused — seems contented and happy — though at 
the same time the professed President of the so-called 
Republic is exercising, unopposed, the power of an 
absolute monarch ; trampling the Constitution of a 
nation under foot ; violating, with perfect impunity, 
his solemn oath ; subverting the liberties of the 
people and the press ; imprisoning and liberating 
citizens at his pleasure ; and in fine riding rough-shod 
right onward for the crown that now glitters before 
his eyes. Enough, indeed, to make the blood of a 
free-born American boil with indignation, though 
only a stranger in the land. As you move along— 



300 Memories over the Water. 

musing, perhaps, on the vast difference in the govern- 
ment of nations, contrasting the state of your own 
with that of the purple land — a small carriage dashes 
rapidly down the broad avenue. It is flanked on 
either side, followed and preceded by a troop of dra- 
goons, and in it sits the usurper, Louis Napoleon. 
His approach is heralded by no shout of ''Vive 
Napoleon," ''Vive I'Empereur;" but the idle crowd, 
ouvrier, and prince, suffer him to pass on in silence. 
In a few days the free vote of the people is taken on 
the conduct of the President. Everything is con- 
ducted under the eye of the modern Cromwell, and 
of course the majority approving his course is over- 
whelming. They have no confidence in, no love for, 
the man ; yet they support him, simply in fact, 
because they can do no better. Step by step he 
marches onward, and finally mounts the throne of 
France, And still he is unopposed ; because, weary 
of fruitless revolutions, the people crave peace — no 
matter whether it be monarchical or republican — that 
their private interests may go on and prosper. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 



December the 19 th we paid a visit to ''Pere La 
Chaise " — the famous bnrying-ground of Paris. We 
caught an omnibus just at the church of St. Roch, 
and by means of the corresponding lines were con- 
veyed to the very gate of the cemetery. We there 
employed a guide, who piloted us through this beau- 
tiful resting-place of the dead, and pointed out the 
graves of the most distinguished characters. Many 
of the Marshals of Prance have found a resting-place 
here — among them may be seen the grave of the 
gallant Ney ; but it has no monumental marble about 
it — not a slab nor a stone to mark the spot where 
the "bravest of the brave" reposes. The space is 
simply inclosed by an iron railing, while above his 
head droops the evergreen but mournful cypress. 
Conspicuous among the countless tombs is the monu- 
ment erected over the remains of Abelard, the martyr 
of love, and Heloise, the pale-faced nun. What 
schoolboy hath not mused over the melancholy story 
of their mutual love, until he hath almost worshiped 
at the shrine of so beautiful an attachment ; and what 
maturer manhood, in all the strong conviction, per- 
haps the bitterness of his skepticism, might not drop 



302 Memories over the Water. 

a tear above their heads. As the sun was about 
sinking in the west we took our departure, and re- 
turned homeward by way of the Boulevards — that 
gay thoroughfare so prolific in objects of interest to 
the seekers of pleasure or the students of history. 
Beginning at the Place Bastille you proceed from the 
Boulevard du Temple, where blouses and enormous 
beards abound, down to the Boulevard des Capucines, 
w^here yellow kids and patent leather predominate. 
The Boulevards are in fact a regular graduation 
from the hard-working, revolutionary classes, to the 
pomatumed, perfumed and brocaded froth of society. 
Next to the Boulevard du Temple, or the Boulevard 
de Crime, as it has been historically called, succeed 
the Boulevards, St. Martin, St. Denis and Poissonnier, 
with their coquettish grisettes and dandy dry-goods 
shopmen. Then come the Boulevards des Italiens 
and des Capucines — the microcosm of brilliant, 
gilded Paris, exhibiting all the fashion of coat and 
pantaloons, of bonnets, bootees and braces that the city 
contains. The motion of these pretty bootees might 
be called a sort of a prose polka, so graceful and easy, 
so elastic and magnetic is the musical tapping of the 
high-heeled gaiters. But if in a historical mood the 
omnibus driver may point you out the street where 
Mirabeau died, the house where Richelieu made 
love, and the building in which Lafitte hatched the 
revolution of 1830; the hell of Frascati; the garden 
of Beaumarchais, and the triumphal arches of the 
Portes St. Denis and St. Martin. By the time you 



Memories over the Water. 303 

have reached the Church of the Madeleine, with its 
lofty fluted columns, commenced by Napoleon, and 
by him called the Temple of Fame, the gas is lighted, 
and the entire length of the Boulevards is one brilliant 
illumination, as busy with its thousands of pedestrians 
as in the broad blaze of day. You may now turn in 
at the restaurant of the " Trois Freres,'' and dine in 
just whatever manner you may see fit. This much 
accomplished you leave the mirror-cased walls of this 
fashionable resort, and repair to the Theatre Francaise, 
on Eue Richelieu, not far from the Palais Royal, and 
listen to some of the deep tragedies of Rachel. Per- 
haps you may see her in Adrienne, and if so we will 
defy you to keep back the tear, when she receives 
again the bouquet of roses from the Count de Saxe, 
and in such sad, touching and heart-broken tones 
murmurs " Ma pauvre bouquet! demandee par lui! 
donnee parmoi!" Her accent is the very echo of 
bleeding confidence, and the fondling of the dear 
flowers in her hands a mournful elegy to expiring 
love. Though she spoke not in our native tongue, 
yet never before nor since hath woman, on the stage, 
so stirred the latent emotions of our heart. 

On the first of January, 1852, Louis Napoleon 
gave a grand fete^ which he celebrated in person at 
the time-honored cathedral of Notre Dame. The 
church was most royally fitted up for the occasion. 
The soldiery and citizens of Paris turned out Q,n masse^ 
though a close observer might have detected the deep 
under-current of hatred that was running riot in the 



304 Memories over the Water. 

hearts of many against the usurper, yet the outward 
show was all in his favor. One murmur of discontent 
was the sure precursor to imprisonment, and so what- 
ever opposition he may have had, it was left to rankle 
in the heart of the possessor. We could but conclude, 
as Louis Napoleon rode at the head of his thousands 
of troops, cheered by citizen and soldier, that though 
he might reach the throne of France in safety, he 
could never maintain his seat. Change, political 
change, seems the necessary aliment — the national 
nourishment of the French people. They bore then 
the nephew of their great chief in triumph to the con- 
summation of his heart's desire : it may be in a few 
years more the masses, beginning to crave some new 
excitement, will rise up and depose the present incum- 
bent of the throne for some new idol. So wags the 
world, and who shall say nay ! 

But in the meanwhile Louis Napoleon rode tri- 
umphantly on. The French Republic was rapidly 
merging into the French Empire. By order of the 
dictator the trees of liberty were all laid low in the 
dust; the motto of the Republic — "Liberte, Egalite, 
Fraternite" — erased from the public buildings; the 
goddess of Freedom on the French coin supplanted by 
the head of Napoleon ; and soon the daring President 
had exchanged his democratic residence for the Palace 
of the Tuilleries. Balls and fetes were his policy. 
High living to the army insured their devotion to his 
cause, and magnificent celebrations so tickled the eye 
of the capital, that in their pomp and parade the 



Memories oyer the Water. 305 

object for which they were gotten up was all forgotten. 
From some, who had lost relatives and friends in the 
fight on the Boulevards, went up curses ''not loud 
but deep." Yet the tyrant was a determined fatal- 
ist — he believed in his star, and heard no foreboding 
omen in the deep muttering of the discontented. He 
thought it probable he might be assassinated, and 
with reference to that event calmly made his will, 
ordaining that France, at his death, should be gov- 
erned by four of his favorite generals, whom he named. 
Whether his last will and testament, instituting this 
military oligarchy, would have been as much respect- 
ed, in the event of his decease, as his commands when 
living, and with a hundred thousand armed men to 
enforce them, might be a matter of some doubt. 

But from the hour on which he struck the first 
bloody blow he had everything his own way. Under 
his bold dominion all things moved smoothly on. It 
seemed that the very wheels of faith were oiled for his 
purposes, so easily did he accomplish his every design. 
The most powerful men in the empire, whom he had 
the least reason to deem hostile to his administration, 
were banished the state. He had trampled one con- 
stitution under foot, and now promulgated another. 
Its provisions were short and concise, positive and 
pertinent, giving almost absolute power into the 
hands of the President. It was prefaced by a long 
appeal to the people, whose tenor was to inculcate 
implicit faith in his integrity and unhesitating obedi- 
ence to his mandates. He boldly grasped the reins 



306 Memories over the Water. 

of government, but to give some show of authority 
to his daring assumption, he himself gets up a con- 
stitution, which gave the President the power of the 
Emperor. Despite the bold and uncompromising 
manner in which he wielded the power he had usurp- 
ed, matters soon began to assume a settled complexion. 
Decree after decree went forth, and whatever its pur- 
port, its mandates were unhesitatingly executed. The 
estates of the Orleans Family were declared confis- 
cated, and when remonstrated with, he simply ad- 
duced the example set him by the successors of 
Napoleon Bonaparte. But he might have been told 
that his uncle, like himself, w^as an interloper, and 
not the lineal and legitimate heir to the throne ! 

The foreigners at that time in Paris w^ere almost 
unanimously of the opinion, that the fires of a fearful 
revolution were slumbering under the pacific exterior 
of afiairs, and that any one, who should quiet himself 
with the thought that all danger had passed, was only 
sleeping^ in fancied security, on the crater of the 
troubled Volcano. But the eruption is yet delayed, 
and the calm seems likely to continue some time 
longer, unless the Turko-Eussian war give occasion 
to the disafiected to vent their smothered wrath. 

On reviewing the course of Louis Napoleon, sub- 
sequent to his expulsion of the members of the 
National Assembly, we were more and more inclined 
to indulge a lenient opinion on his late conduct. 
From our observation of the French people we had 
become convinced that the tim.e had not yet arrived 



Memories over the Water. 307 

when a permanent Republican form of government 
could be instituted in France. When ruled with a 
strong arm and an iron rod she seemed as prosperous 
and more contented than during the brief life of the 
Eepublic. Moreover, by the bold stroke of 2d of 
December Louis Napoleon had at least maintained 
order, and thereby preserved France, and possibly 
Europe, from a bloody revolution. Yet as an Ameri- 
can, we could but regret the extinction of the French 
Republic. The failure of that experiment tended 
much to weaken the faith of the world in the efficacy 
of popular institutions, and greatly retarded the ad- 
vance of freedom, of humanity and of general intelli- 
gence. Again America stood alone, the only Repub- 
lic among the nations of rank that could command 
the respect of the world. May she still live on the 
same glorious fabric — the great exemplar of truth in 
the midst of error — the fair daughter of Freedom 
vailed in the pure light of Republican- principles — 
immutable as the adamant — unsullied as the snow 
upon her mountain tops ! 



CHAPTER XLV. 



Every American who spends a winter in Paris 
will, of course, attend one of the grand Masked Balls, 
which begin abont the first of January. They are 
rich, rare and racy, quaint, queer and quizzical, en- 
chanting, wicked and brilliant. Just imagine several 
thousand people let loose at midnight in the Grand 
Opera House, determined to dance, flirt, shout, and 
gallop until morning, with Musard for the presiding 
genius ! Our first view of the floor, as we stepped 
inside the building, was enough to induce the thought 
of one general rush to insanity. The dance was in 
full blast, and from the very foot of the orchestra to 
the balustrade of the boxes was one grand "cancanic" 
movement. The soul of every man and woman 
seemed absorbed in the rioting vortex, while the 
fiddle-bow of Musard described the most fantastic, 
maniac diagrams upon the frighted air. The upper 
tiers were crowded with dominoes of every descrip- 
tion, and it was almost impossible to thrust yourself 
through the dense mass of intriguants assembled in 
the foyer. Disguised voices and unknown pressures 
of the hand greeted you from every side. You step 
down into the parterre to get a better look at the 

(308) 



Memories over the Water. 309 

dancers. You have scarcely touched the floor before 
you are whizzed off in the embrace of some big war- 
rior, and away goes the gallopade, neck or nothi^..^ 
hundreds before, hundreds behind you — they come 
like the Assyrian. Tou are in the very midst of the 
melee. Tour warrior urges you on, shouting, push- 
ing, helter-skelter, until all tumble headlong together. 
Then comes a burst like a war-whoop, and you find 
yourself about three feet deep among the petticoats. 
Tour hat is irretrievably ruined. But in another 
moment all are upon their legs, and again dash off 
into the maddening excitement. 

" 'T is the carnivars madness. 
When riot runs free. 
And revel wins sadness 
To share in its glee." 

Amiability reigns supreme. Give and take is the 
motto. A hasty pardon is sufficient atonement for 
a flesh-wound from the spur of a cavalier, or having 
your eye damaged by the pointed chapeau of some 
military hero. The personation of the devil is a 
favorite character, and you see his red legs and 
chicken-cock feather on every occasion. The women 
delight in playing the "gamin" — a vagabond sort of a 
boy — or the Spanish cavalier, with his slashed sleeves 
and velvet sombrero. It is no easy matter to detect 
your most intimate acquaintance in domino and mask. 
The figure is so completely concealed, and the eyes 
have such a singular appearance, peeping from behind 



310 Memories over the Water. 

the pasteboard bulwarks, that they can defy the closest 
scrutiny. It is a point of honor not to attempt to raise 
the small piece of silk falling from the bottom of the 
mask over the mouth ; so you have but few points left 
to identify your tormentor. The hand and foot may 
sometimes betray, but your cunning companion takes 
good care never to draw her glove or allow you to tie 
her shoe. After much legerdemain you may succeed 
in stealing her handkerchief. You now feel like 
Bonaparte at Marengo. You run your eye over 
every inch of the cambric; but it is as blank as a 
virgin page or a dandy's face, not even a hieroglyphic. 
Your invention is exhausted. You are without helm 
or compass, and must cry quarter. You may never 
discover the incognito, though she speaks English 
fluently, and is well acquainted with the history of 
your life. 

But you return to the parterre, from the foyer, and 
find the dance still going on. An innumerable bevy 
of damsels, with short velvet jackets and Turkish 
pants of w^hite, striped at each side with blue satin, 
are whirling like so many tops before your eyes. 
Every design and caricature of fantastic dress, a most 
dazzling and brilliantly-illuminated room, and one of 
the finest orchestras in the known world are a few of 
the attractions of the magnificent display. The 
measure of the music is so bewitchingly inviting that, 
though you went not for the purpose of mingling with 
the dancers, your restive feet finally bear you away, 
nolente volente. Every one vies with the other in 



Memories over the Water, 311 

cutting the most amazing and extravagant capers. 
Everything is one ceaseless whirl, nntil you think 
that all the wild gayety and maddening dissipation 
of Paris had concentrated in one focus. We had 
visited the Mabille, the Chateau des Fleurs, the 
Valentino, the balls at the Opera Comique, and the 
Jardin d'Hiver, but never had we witnessed so varied 
and so droll, so animated and so dazzling a scene of 
dissipation, as the parterre of that Opera House that 
night presented. Every one had free license to act 
just as they pleased, provided only there was no 
fighting. This is seldom the case ; though we Tiave 
seen a struggling grisette borne out of the house on 
the shoulder of some stoic gend'arme, who had found 
her about to plunder some successful rival of a pair 
of eyes. But these scenes are very unusual, and the 
greatest good- will generally prevails. The dance is 
carried on until the gas-lights begin to pale before the 
morning sun. The ball is over, and the thousands 
of the gay votaries of pleasure depart — who knows 
where ? 

We heard of an amusing adventure of an American 
youth, which occurred on his starting homeward from 
one of these balls. He and his friend made a slight 
error in coming out in the dark, and took possession 
of a private carriage, standing in front of the Opera, 
mistaking it for a cab ; indeed the rain was falling in 
torrents, and in the darkness and hurry they took no 
trouble to distinguish the difierence. The coachman 
grew furious at the astonishing coolness with which 



312 Memories over the Water. 

the gay Lothario ordered him to drive to his lodgings. 
The little man threatened to hand them over to the 
police, if they did not descend instanter. The in- 
truder insisted upon explaining the matter before 
alighting; but the incensed Jehu would not listen 
to him, fully persuaded he had entered the coach 
designedly. Finding the gentleman unreasonable, he 
became indignant, and knocked the unhappy man's 
hat over his eyes, and made his escape into another 
vehicle, while he was filling the depths of his chapeau 
with his execrations, and dancing about in the rain 
like a decapitated chicken. 

During the winter that we were in Paris it was the 
custom of the American Consul, Mr. Goodrich, to 
hold a reception at his rooms on Kue de la Paix 
every Friday evening. Here you might meet with 
most of the Americans in Paris, with a charming 
diversity in the way of the gay French. These social 
gatherings were very agreeable, and served to render 
our Consul very popular with his countrymen in 
Europe. His wife and two daughters were very 
pleasant ladies, especially the daughters, who danced 
superbly. Mr. Goodrich, who, be it remembered, 
is the veritable Peter Parley — that old gentleman 
so popular with every child in the Union — we 
found a courteous and accomplished gentleman. 
Among the agreeable acquaintances we formed at his 
receptions, we may not forget a sweet young girl from 
the city of New York — a fair maiden with pensive, 
lustrous hazel eyes that seemed the very windows of 



Memories over the Water. 313 

a feeling, full and truthful soul. She was one of 
those magnetic fairies to whom you felt involuntarily 
attracted — in whose presence you loved to linger, and 
whose absence you immediately felt and regretted. 
Her beaming smile went directly to the heart, awoke 
its chords to a responsive sympathy, and filling up 
its recesses with the breathing music of a congenial 
spirit. As regularly as the appointed hour rolled 
round we would find ourself wending our way to bask 
again in the sunshine of that smile. 

On the evening of the 7th of February we went, in 
company with Brady, Bent and Walker, to a very 
fashionable ball, celebrated by the dramatic artists of 
Paris, at the Opera Comique. Our companion Bent, 
Lieutenant in the United States' navy, is the same 
gentleman of whom Bayard Taylor speaks so highly 
in his letters descriptive of the Japan Expedition. 
He was at that time on furlough, and traveling 
through Europe. He had for companions, during a 
portion of his tour, Messrs. Walker, Boudinot, Jones, 
and Gwathmey — all lieutenants in the United States' 
navy. On reaching the ballroom we found most of 
the stage celebrities of Paris in attendance. The 
handsome room presented a very brilliant appearance, 
resplendent with a dashing display of dress among 
the ladies. Many of them were quite pretty. The 
balls at the Opera Comique are something sui gen- 
eris. They are more dressy, more distingue than 
those of the Jardin d'Hiver ; they are not charac- 
terized by the untrammeled revelry of the Bal Masque 
26 



314 Memories over the Water. 

at the Grand Opera ; they have not the poetry of the 
Chateau des Tleurs, the Mabille, or the Chateau 
Kouge ; nor yet have they the plebeian cast of the 
Valentino or the Paganini. They are more patron- 
ized by the liaut ton of the capital, and boast a 
greater degree of reserve than any other public affair. 
The stranger, as he glances over the city of Paris, 
sees its worst features at a blush. There is an 
atmosphere of frivolity and looseness about the place 
that convinces him immediately must, in a greater or 
less degree, contaminate the entire population. Yet 
the aggregate of wickedness may not rise much higher 
here than in many other European capitals. It is 
indeed more openly patronized, and therefore appears 
the more enormous. Vice stands unvailed, and the 
social system, like an ostrich, hides but a small 
portion of its carcass in the decencies of life, and 
leaves the rest uncovered. Suicide, Foundling Hos- 
pitals, the Morgue, the Theaters, the Masked Balls, 
etc., form strong features in the first view of Paris. 
But, alas for the nature of man, how soon one gets 
used to them ! how soon indifferent to their horrors 
or their follies. 



CHAPTER XLVI, 



Among our many pleasant resorts at Paris we may 
not forget the social balls given by our dancing- 
master at No. 320 Kue St. Honore. They were not 
very numerously attended, but all the more pleasant 
for that. The leader of our festivities was a very 
clever young Frenchman, whose rare entertaining 
qualities and inexhaustible fund of new and amusing 
dances made him at once the "damoiseau du bal." 
But the ^^lelle of the ball" was a pretty little French 
woman, married to a dark-browed and somber-look- 
ing individual, who seemed not much to relish the 
merry-making. His gay and fascinating little wife, 
however, danced away, and was as light-hearted 
and joyous as the merriest at the jubilee. B. was 
there, and having aboard several glasses, was one 
of the politest and happiest fellows in the world. 
He would insist on helping and re-helping the ladies 
to punch, and when the dance was concluded would 
go round fanning each and every lady in the room. 
V. was also there. His natural disposition was gay 
and animated, but on these occasions he was a perfect 
wild-cat. Poor fellow ! he was then under the advice 
and treatment of the celebrated physician Baron Louis 

( 315 ) 



316 Memories oyek the Water. 

for consumption. And then there was the fat Ger- 
man, weighing not an ounce less than two hundred 
avoirdupois, and yet one of the best waltzers we ever 
saw. 

Among the many curious dances we must not omit 
mention of one. wherein the company all join hands 
and dance around a lady posted in the center. After 
the lapse of a few moments the lady in the circle 
chooses from among the sterner sex a partner, who 
leaves the ring and joins hands with his fair com- 
panion. The dance is then continued again, and 
accompanied with a song ; at a certain part thereof 
the center couple bow; at another they kneel facing 
each other ; and at another the lady gracefully and 
coquettishly presents each cheek for the gentlemen to 
salute. They then rise, the lady joins the circle of 
dancers, and the gentleman chooses him a partner 
from among the gentler sex ; and so on alternately. 
This dance was quite the favorite, only it was painful 
to see how assiduously the prettiest ladies were sought, 
and alas ! to see how studiously certain others were 
avoided. 

With many such dances were the festivities pro- 
longed, until frequently the gray eye of morning 
looked in, and found the revelers there. 

On the evening of the 14th of February we attend- 
ed the grand ball given for the benefit of the poor, 
at the Jardin d'Hiver, and under the especial aus- 
pices of the Prince President. Turning down Rue 
Eivoli, from Rue du Dauphin, we proceeded under 



Memories oyer the Water. 317 

the cover of its handsome arcades, until we reached 
the Place de la Concorde. Crossing over this magni- 
ficent Square, we passed under the shadow of the 
obelisk of Luxor, and proceeded onward up the 
Champs Elysees. The stranger who has once seen 
this portion of Paris by gas-light, may never forget 
its magic beauty. A long line of brilliant lights 
reach far away in the distance, up to the Triumphal 
Arch, sparkling like thick-set gems in the deep man- 
tle of night. On each and every side of the Place 
de la Concorde flicker the burnished lamps, shedding 
a flood of light to guide the nocturnal rambler on his 
way. On every hand dark-browed buildings lift up 
their giant forms, and cast their far-reaching shadows 
out upon the Square. In its center stands the famous 
obelisk of Luxor, with its queer hieroglyphics, and 
looking down upon the spot where, in the dark and 
bloody days of France, the insatiate Guillotine called, 
with clamorous voice, for food. 

But we have crossed the square, and about half- 
way up the Champs Elysees we reach the Jardin 
d'Hiver. Depositing our hat and palteau at the door, 
and paying our admission fee, we pass in, and a scene 
of perfect enchantment is spread before our eyes. We 
stand under the roof of a beautiful crystal palace, 
brilliantly illuminated with countless chandeliers, 
and redolent with the perfume of flowers. A magni- 
ficent band of music is playing one of its most spirited 
airs, and thousands of the gay dancers, with flying 
feet, sweep before us, as we stand for a moment in 



318 Memories over the Water. 

silent admiration of the magic scene. Between the 
pauses of the music, you hear the busy hum of voices, 
and in the distance the sound of falling water, as it 
joyously mounts upon the perfumed air, from the 
depths of the sculpture-decked fountains, and falls 
again, like a shower of diamonds, into the marble- 
rimmed basin. You stroll leisurely along through 
the mazy labyrinths of tliis fairy building, now ming- 
ling with the dancers under the full glare of the 
chandelier, and now straying under the shade of the 
orange-grove. The senses are lulled into a dreamy 
repose, as the soft swell of the music and the lute- 
like murmuring of the falling w^ater steal, with deli- 
cious footsteps, along the avenues of the soul. There 
is a dream of happy lands upon the spirit — lands 
beneath the tropics, where all is beauty, and the 
heart doth waste itself in mere pursuit of joy. There 
are fountains and flowers, music and mirth, crimson 
and blue, the draped glory of oriental luxury. Along 
through the Paphian bowers we stray, and turning 
into a shaded pathway, a being of youth and beauty 
breaks upon our sight like a startled fawn. Not one 
only, but a host of Cyprians lovelier than the Lamias 
of old — crushed rose-leaves scattered from the vases 
of luxury to feed the passions and lure the judgment 
of man. Look at the eyes of that child of sin — see 
the dove-like expression of her glance — the pure 
white of her lily fingers as she parts the long hair 
from her brow where purity itself seems throned — 
then mark that seductive little foot nestled on its blue 



Memories ovek the Water. 319 

cushion like a Halcyon on the water, and that young 
breast, whose gentle movement swells to rapture at 
your dreamy gaze, and those light lips so ripe, so 
warm, so full of bliss yet unrevealed; and tell us 
where mischief stops when such an- agent holds the 
torch ! Look on a picture such as this, and see one 
phase in Paris life — see the current of that flowery 
stream along which glide the chain bound captives 
of the Syren, heedless of that deep, dark gulf toward 
which their oarless boats are swiftly tending. But 
when once the murky goal is reached, at memory's 
call shall start — 

Such hideous phantoms from the paU, 

That shuts the present from the past. 
As turn life's sweetest cup to gall 

And wormwood — the sirocco blast, 
That withers with its dragon breath. 

Perchance the return hope hath fed 
A faint and sickly flame, ere yet 

Its every feeble ray had fled. 
And, struggling on its course, had set 

In the still chaos of despair. 
Grim specters, like to murdered ghosts, 

Then lift their grizzly forms, and stare 
And scowl upon the soul ; but lost 

To joy or fear, it voiceless sits, 
As the mute statue vacant looks 

Upon the fiery waste, nor recks 
Where roll the red and lambent floods. 

But we are getting metaphysically moral, and so will 
return to the ball. Not until about two o'clock in the 



320 Memories over the Water. 

morning did the crowd begin to disperse, and give the 
gay dancers the open field. This desideratum being 
accomplished, innumerable couples went whirling 
away to the measure of most exquisite music. Now 
and then two of them would come in contact, and 
send each other spinning and laughing away in oppo- 
site directions. But nothing broke the enjoyment of 
the night — "all w^ent merry as a marriage bell." 
The close of the ball was its most pleasant part. The 
spectators had departed, leaving the room cool and 
pleasant, and the dancers to conclude the festive 
scene. Then came that reckless, frenzied dance, 
denominated the '^ Cancan." It is said that it origi- 
nated with the Due d'Orleans. To describe it were 
impossible, but w^hen once seen it is never forgotten. 

*' On witli the dance — let joj be unconfined! 
'No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet." 

And on went the dance until the early morn, when 
the curtain dropped upon the scene of mirth, and the 
gay revelers dispersed to rouse the drowsy " con- 
cierge," and sleep the next day out. We slumbered 
unconscious of the busy world about us, until about 
two o'clock, p. M., on the succeeding day. We then 
got up, and, after rather a late breakfast, we betook 
ourself to the Tuilleries Gardens to look on at the gay 
gambols of the children that gather here to enjoy the 
many amusements incident to childhood. Some we 
found jumping the rope; others were chasing the 



Memories over the Water, 321 

variegated foot-ball over the smooth, hard ground ; 
some were feeding the swans, as they glided so 
proudly over the water-ponds; some sailing their 
boats, and some playing hide-and-seek with their 
favorite poodles — presenting a scene of perfect happi- 
ness. He who would have his heart refreshed, after 
the dissipation of a nighty let him go, on a bright 
Sunday afternoon, to the Tuilleries Gardens, where, 
in strong contrast to the reckless revelry of maturer 
age, he will see the bright faces and hear the sweet 
voices of happy, innocent childhood. Let him not, 
however, speculate upon the future lot of those 
guileless ones — for heavy shadows may loom before 
the sight, and chase the smile of sweet innocence 
from off those sunny brows. The hour of study, the 
world, the lover, the neglect, the Seine, the Morgue, 
the dissecting-room. 

A visit to St. Cloud may be made both profitable 
and pleasant. You may see the maneuvers of the 
military, and explore the Chateau and its adjacent 
grounds. The list runs — bedroom of the Emperor, 
furniture of Josephine, the scene of the announce- 
ment, Billiard-room, Library, and Orangery. The 
Seine winds gently along by the Palace, lending the 
charm of water scenery to his favorite resort of 
Napoleon. The situation of the Chateau is very 
fine, and commands an excellent view of Paris. 

Then one should see too the Pantheon, the Palace 
of the Luxembourg, the Jardin des Plants, the 
Gobelins, the Hotel Cluney, the Quatier Latin, the 
27 



322 Memories over the Water. 

Jews' Quarter, the Champs de Mars, the Morgue, 
the Artesian Well, the Bois du Boulogue, the Chateau 
Mendon, the Sevres Porcelain Manufactory the Place 
de la Carrousel, the Louvre and its galleries of sculp- 
ture and paintings, the Madeleine, the Observatoire, 
the Palais Koyal, St. Eoch, the Oratoire, the Institut 
de France, Neuilly, the City Granary, the Salle Vic- 
toire, the Valentino, the Paganini, the Prado, the 
Academic, the Sorbonne, etc., to the end of the chap- 
ter. They v^ill all repay the trouble of a visit, but 
are too well known to require a description. 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

On the 23d of February, 1862, the three days of 
the Carnival began, and, as customary, with the 
celebration of the '' Boeuf Gras." At 10 o'clock, a. m., 
the procession set out from the Hippodrome, and 
moved down the Faubourg St. Honore, stopping for a 
short time before the "Elysee National," then the 
residence of the Prince President. 

But this time-honored and national custom has 
sadly degenerated from its former magnificence, 
and the affair we Mdtnessed was by no means a 
creditable one to the city of Paris. The procession 
was headed by about twenty drummers — they never 
use the fife in France — after whom followed a com- 
pany of fancifully-dressed horsemen. Then came 
''the fatted ox," with his horns gilded, and his body 
wreathed with flowers. Next succeeded a chariot, 
drawn by four horses abreast, in which stood a 
woman with a helmet on her head, representing, we 
presume, the Goddess of Liberty. Then came two 
handsome cars, very large, and crowded with men 
and women in fancy dress, all bedecked with banners 
and flowers. The procession was accompanied by a 
body of mounted men to preserve order and prevent 
any riotous disposition. The cavalcade^ with its 



324 Memories over the Water. 

pageantry, proceeded througliout the length of the 
citj^, winding np about the close of the day. 

The Monday following was celebrated in pretty 
much the same way, and Tuesday concluded the fes- 
tival. In the early part of the day the '' Boeuf Gras" 
was again led around the city, and toward evening a 
long line of carriages began to form along the Boule- 
vards, down Eue Eoyal and across the Place de la 
Concorde. The line extended up the Boulevards as 
far as the Porte St. Denis, where it turned down 
again on the opposite side, and retraced its course 
back to the Place de la Concorde, thus forming a 
circle. It was composed of every class of vehicle, 
and must have been miles in length. Here was the 
gilded coach of the Nabob, there the light chariot of 
the Prince, here the democratic cab, there the coarse 
cart of the peasant overflowing with his buxum wife 
and many chubby ofispring. As we stood looking 
on there passed by a handsome carriage, with liveried 
driver and footman, and in it sat the very embodi- 
ment of loveliness — a beautiful French girl, with 
hazel eyes and flowing curls. Just as the coach 
came opposite where we stood, the fair inmate threw 
open the window and called to the footman, who sat 
perched up behind. But the lackey in livery was so 
busily occupied in noting the accouterments of the 
cavalcade, that he did not hear the repeated calls of 
his fair lady. Observing this, we stepped up, and, 
tapping the absent-minded servant with our cane, 
directed his attention to the fair maiden. How little 



Memories over the Water. 325 

incidents sometimes linger on the mind ! For our 
com^tesy we were rewarded with one of the sweetest 
of smiles. That fair face came and passed ; but the 
heart-cheering light of that smile took up its abode in 
our memory, and even now, in our lonelier moments, 
will come gleaming, like a ray of sunshine, from out 
the twilight of the past, to illumine the pathway of life. 

From the top of the Pantheon, the Triumphal 
Arch, and the column in the Place Yendome, may 
be had excellent views of the great city Paris. Fre- 
quently we would climb to their summits to look 
over the vast metropolis, and study the map of its 
geography. Then coming down we would visit the 
Morgue, a small, dingy building, sitting just on the 
bank of the Seine. This house of the dead was 
seldom without some occupant. The features of some 
were distorted as though they had died in violent 
agonies, while those of others wore as calm and placid 
a smile as though the insensate clay were only sleep- 
ing. Outside the gloomy building you might ever 
find a crowd, gathered to laugh and amuse itself at 
the comic actions of some poor devil, who, by his 
mimicry of monkey capers, was wont to gather a few 
sous that might keep body and soul together. There 
was but one step from noisy life to pulseless death. 

On the Champs Elysees you might, every after- 
noon, meet the carriage of the embryo Emperor. As 
you pass along you observe a policeman suddenly 
appear on the crowded carriage-way, arresting the 
progress of some, and hurrying that of others. By 



326 Memories over the Water. 

this you may know the President is about to appear. 
Soon a modest little coujpee dashes out, now accom- 
panied by no body-guard. The stranger steps to the 
side-walk to have a fair view of him as he passes. 
He is greeted with a few feeble cheers, and you have 
a fine view of his face as he goes by, for he is bending 
forward, looking out of the window, and gracefully 
touching his hat to those who cheer him. Occasion- 
ally some poor woman rushes out from the sidewalk, 
and throws a petition in at the carriage window. 
She was made a widow, perhaps, during the fight on 
the Boulevards. 

After visiting the Hotel Cluney, built on the site of 
the old Palace of Thermes, and filled with all manner 
of antiquities, you may stroll over the " Quatier 
Latin," look in at the Sorbonne, and note the medical 
students, the Bedouins of Paris. On your return call 
in at the time-honored Cathedral of Notre Dame, 
and stroll among its solemn arches. Here you may 
see the magnificent robes of state worn by Napoleon 
at his coronation ; many rich and costly jewels ; and 
the gorgeous apparel of the priests, who, with the 
Pope, ofiiciated at the ceremony. Here you may also 
see a beautiful painting, of modern execution, repre- 
senting the death of the Archbishop of Paris, during 
the revolution of 1848. You will also be shown a 
piece of the spine of the revered man, pierced by a 
golden arrow, to show the course of the ball which 
occasioned his death. On its point is stuck the 
identical piece of lead, which is preserved as a 



Memories over the Water. 327 

precious memento of the holy martyr. You may see, 
too, a very expressive marble group, representing the 
prophetic dream of a wife. She is portrayed as 
gazing on the emaciated body of her husband, as he 
raises himself from out his coffin, the lid of which is 
held up by a sorrowing angel. At its head stands 
the gaunt figure of Death, wrapped partially in a 
gloomy mantle, above which peers his hideous head. 

In this cathedral we stood upon the very stone 
where Napoleon stood to receive the crown from the 
Pope, while Mrs. B. occupied the position of the 
Empress Josephine. The guide will tell you that 
Napoleon approached the steps of the altar to receive 
the crown, and, inasmuch as his Holiness was too 
long in pronouncing the coronation ceremony, the 
impatient warrior took the crown himself from the 
hands of the Pope, and placed it on his brow, and 
then turning deposited the diadem on the head of 
Josephine. Ill-fated omen to the Napoleon dynasty. 

On the 28th of February we paid a visit to Lafay- 
ette's grave. Accompanied by Brady and Brevard 
we took an omnibus at Palais Eoyal, and passing up 
the left bank of the Seine we reached, by Eue St. 
Antoine, the Place Bastille. Here we changed our 
omnibus, and, b}^ means of our through tickets, 
called by the Parisiens corresjpondence^ we left the 
Bastille with its beautiful bronze column, capped by 
a wiDged statue, richly gilded, and erected to the 
memory of those who fell in the revolution of the 
27th, 28th, and 29th of July, 1830, and pursued our 



328 Memories over the Water. 

way toward the Barriere du Trone. On each side of 
this gateway rises a beautiful and lofty fluted column, 
its base handsomely ornamented with bas-reliefs, and 
presenting a fine appearance, as seen from a distance. 
Soon after passing the Barriere we reached the fine 
old fortress of Yincennes, situated about a mile and a 
half out from the city. By means of Brady's pass- 
port, which he fortunately had in his pocket, we were 
admitted within the walls by the sentinel on guard. 
Applying next to the pretty concierge we were by her 
placed in charge of one of the numerous soldiers, 
who marched us off to the commanding general, who 
furnished us with written permission to explore the 
garrison. First we climbed to the top of the lofty 
watch-tower, and looked down upon the spot where 
the gallant Due D'Enghien was shot by order of 
Napoleon. We then proceeded to the Armory, which 
we found well stocked with all manner of warlike 
instruments, and so arranged as to be ready at a 
moment's warning for service. In the courtyard are 
immense numbers of cannon-balls, bomb-shells, etc., 
all neatly piled in pyramids, and ready for trans- 
portation. Next we visited the new and elegantly- 
arranged stables for the cavalry, containing at the 
time four thousand steeds of war. These stables 
were put up by Louis Philippe, just previous to his 
expulsion from the throne of France. 

We now proceeded to the Cemetere du Piepus, and 
stood by the grave of the noble-hearted Lafayette, the 
loved and gallant champion of American independ- 



Memories over the Water. 329 

ence. He lies in the far corner of this solitary little 
cemetery, and the plain slab of black marble, that 
rests above the breast of the hero, bears upon it no 
vaunting inscription. Who could write the epitaph 
of Lafayette ? By his side reposes the body of his 
wife, and close by that of his son, George Washing- 
ton Lafayette. We plucked a green leaf from a vine 
that clambered over the wall, to remind us in after 
days of our visit to the grave of this matchless man. 
In the same burial-ground are the family vaults of 
Montmorency, Montague, Morillon, Lorambo, etc. 

A few days after, we visited the magnificent Mau- 
soleum, then in process of erection for the reception 
of the body of Napoleon. It is built under the dome 
of the Hotel des Invalides. The sarcophagus will 
be placed in the center of ''the wreath of victory," 
represented in beautiful mosaic on the floor, and, 
ranging round, stand mournful statues of the purest 
marble. The descent to the tomb is most imposing 
in its gloomy, solemn grandeur. When completed, 
this Mausoleum will surpass, in cost and magnifi- 
cence, anything of the kind in Europe. Above the 
doorway are to be inscribed the words of the great 
chieftain — ''When I die, let me sleep upon the 
banks of the Seine, among the people whom I have 
so much loved." At the time of our visit the body of 
Napoleon was reposing in a side-chapel of the Hotel 
des Invalides. There were at that time 3,300 of the 
old soldiers of the Napoleonic wars in the hospital, 
hobbling about the resting-place of their dead chieftain. 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 



On the 4th of March we took the omnibus at the 
Place du Palais Royal, and paid a visit to the Cathe- 
dral of St. Denis, situated about five miles from 
Paris. Here repose the bodies of the former kings 
of France — Gallia's great — ^her undjdng ones. But 
we did not feel so enthusiastic as when, in the dim 
light of Westminster, we stood above the ashes of 
England's worthies. And yet the solitary grave of a 
Smollet or a Keats is more apt to impress you with 
the vanity of earthly fame, and to awaken those 
solemn reflections which lead to a lofty and nobler 
view^ of man's destiny than the somber Cathedral, 
with its cold, damp vaults, its marble monuments, 
and stained glass. Westminster Abbey is more fitted 
to give the poet food for his dreams than the states- 
man remorse for his ambition, or the historian an 
antidote for his prejudice. The epitaph of royalty is 
but a poor record of truth ; the churchman's adulation 
not unfrequently a poorer proof of goodness ; and the 
poet's monument a miserable consolation for a life- 
time of neglect. Still, it is something in praise of 
mankind that Genius should be able to secure a 
grave by the side of Royalty ; it goes too, to prove 
the equality of death. Beside, it is pleasant to see old 

( 330 ) 



Memories ovek the Water. 331 

rivals sleep so quietly side by side — to read over the 
names of Elizabeth and Mary, Pitt and Fox, as 
though they were twin cherries — to wonder how the 
children of song manage matters over in their depart- 
ment ; whether Johnson finds a folio to hurl at his 
argumentative neighbor, or Goldsmith turns his un- 
speculative eye upon spiritualized Garrick. The tombs 
of Westminster are the poetry of death. The ruling 
stars of faction have sunk into the same embrace. 
The hostile orbs of beauty, poesy and sovereignty 
have closed their fiery orbits in one common center. 
Would the ashes of Byron, every stranger will in- 
quire, disturb this heavenly repose ? Would it startle 
the Regent from his coffined propriety, or taint the or- 
thodox atmosphere of South ey ? Yet here sleeps War- 
ren Hastings, near the scene of his political apotheosis ; 
and there lie Burke and Sheridan, the consumers of 
bis glory. The sensual and the immoral, the vicious 
and the vain, the tyrant, the usurper, and the mur- 
derer — all find place ; but there is no room for Byron ! 
In the gloom of the Cathedral's heavy arches 
there is something exceedingly solemn and beautiful. 
There is a mystic power, a voiceless religion in its 
vacant stalls and knightly banners, filled with the 
dust of centuries, and untouched by the breezes of 
Heaven. Time stands like a stoled priest at its 
altar, and the beings of the mind move noiselessly 
over the marble fioor. Around you lie the marble 
effigies of buried majesty ; with here and there some 
kneeling form, with stony hands stretched in eternal 



332 Memories ovee the Water. 

supplication. Eiide figures, with trailing garments, 
bend life-like, in the dim, discolored light, over the 
stiff and outstretched body of some armed warrior; 
and pale statues look coldly from their pedestals upon 
your reverential homage. You stalk like an earthly 
intruder amid the devotion of unimpassioned penitents, 
whose vow is silence, and whose occupation prayer. 

On the 6th of March we went out to look upon 
some of the shadows of life in Paris. We crossed 
over the Seine, and proceeded up the river as far as 
the Institut de France. Here we turned up Eue du 
Seine, and went on as far as Rue de Bussi. First we 
stopped in at Ecole du Medecin, and went over the 
fine anatomical museum. Then, a few paces farther, 
we came to Ecole Pratique, and went over its 
museum, which served as an excellent preparative for 
the scenes that were to follow. Passing into the 
courtyard, the first object that greeted our sight was 
the dead body of a man lying perfectly nude, and 
exposed on the cold stones, neglected and unnoticed 
until some one should come and take him up for the 
dissecting knife. The body lay close to the door ; 
and one of the students, finding it in his way as he 
came out, gave the senseless corpse a kick, which 
sent it rolling over the courtyard. This was more 
than the humanity of our companion, old man 
McCullough, could bear. He said that he was sick 
at heart to witness such barbarity, and immediately 
retraced his steps homeward. But Brady and ourself, 
owing, perhaps, to our less sensitive nature, passed 



Memories over the Water. 333 

on, to look iu at the dissecting rooms. On each side 
of the courtyard were ranged small, dingy buildings, 
much resembling the Morgue, only with many win- 
dows at their sides, that the light of Heaven might 
peer through upon their nauseating scenes. In one 
corner sat the somber, coflSn-shaped litter, in which 
the bodies were brought for dissection. Proceeding 
to the larger building at the farther end of the court- 
yard, and mounting a narrow flight of dirty stairs, we 
opened the first door on our left, and entered one of 
the largest of the dissecting rooms. Here, on the 
many tables arranged for the purpose, lay about forty 
bodies, around which gathered the students and pro- 
fessors of the healing art. There stood a knot of 
young men, attentively listening to their instructor, 
as, with knife in hand, he was blending theory with 
practice in demonstrating the proper method of am- 
putating an arm. At an adjoining table sat a second 
professor, earnestly discussing some point in anatomy, 
over the dead body of a subject, to a handsome and 
fashionably-dressed student, who nonchalantly sat on 
the other side. We thought, as w^e looked on the 
butchers of that charnel-house, with their blouses 
smeared with the gore of the dead, and their hands 
all red in the blood of the same, that not for the 
wealth of Croesus, nor the wisdom of Baron Louis, 
would we so dabble in the corruption of humanity. 
Let others devote themselves to the noble calling, 
which, they say, is followed for the prolonging of life 
and the preservation of health ; if it be necessary to 



33i Memories ovek the Water. 

undergo such scenes daily as we there witnessed, our 
ambition is not equal to reach the goal. And jet 
how merrily did these fellows chat over the sickening 
corruption before them ! How careless did they seem, 
and how unfeelingly did they cut away with the cold 
steel on the bodies, all livid with the hue of death. 
Here lay the muscular limbs of a once powerful man, 
all mangled and bloody ; there the figure of a youth- 
ful woman, formed in beauty's mold ; and here, on 
this gory board, the tiny body of an infant, undergoing 
mutilation at the hands of a student. But, hurrying 
out from this horrible place, we sought the galleries 
of the Louvre, to lose, amid its creations of beauty, the 
grizzly shapes that were floating through our brain, 
and blot out, if possible, the memory of our visit. 

On the evening of the 8th of March the opera of 
William Tell was performed at the grand French 
Opera House. The scenic arrangement was perfect, 
and the effect of the bold mountain scenery very 
beautiful. The music of this opera is considered very 
fine, and on this occasion it was well received by the 
audience. The ballet was charming, exhibiting some 
of the best dancing we ever saw. The house was 
well filled, and presented a very dressy appearance. 
In addition to all this, the Prince President made his 
appearance in the royal box, above which were to be 
seen the significant initials L. IST. We fortunately 
sat just opposite the daring arbitrator, and having a 
good glass, we enjoyed an excellent view of his face 
and person. He wore a blue dress coat, with plain 



Memories oyer the Water. 335 

gilt buttons, and with nothing to distinguish him as 
the Dictator of France, save a broad, red sash, that 
passed across his white vest, and disappeared under 
the lappel of his coat. His face wore its usual 
abstracted expression. At times he would lean his 
head upon the balustrade, and seem lost in revery 
for the space of some 10 or 15 minutes. Then rousing 
himself at some of the finest passages of the opera, 
he would rise to his feet, and applaud by clapping his 
hands. His late career had been one so full of singular 
interest — of even dramatic romance — that we occu- 
pied ourself most of the time in studying his striking 
physiognomy. He could not be called a handsome 
man, and yet he has by no means an ordinary counte- 
nance. Its expression is considerably concealed by 
the enormous moustache and imperial that he wears. 
The audience took but little notice of his presence ; 
and not one voice cried — " Vive Napoleon." We sub- 
sequently saw Madame Tedesco and Roger in the much 
admired opera Le Prophete — the latter playing the part 
of the Prophet, and the former the part of his mother. 
The scenery was gorgeous and imposing beyond de- 
scription ; and the famous skating scene, by the ballet 
troupe, called forth continued applause. Madame 
Taglioni danced, and, though then well advanced in 
years, her performance was rapturously received. 

On the 21st of March we attended a review of the 
military, by Louis Napoleon, in the Place de la 
Carrousel. The President was dressed in a militaiy 
suit, and appeared well, mounted on his fine Arabian. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 



A VISIT to Yersailles is an era in the traveler's 
memory. A short ride on the railway will bring 
you to the village, whence you proceed to the Palace, 
We had, ere we saw Versailles, looked on many 
glorious Palaces, proud triumphs of the genius of 
architecture: but never a one had we seen, which 
could rival in stately magnificence that majestic 
pile — the Palace of Versailles. Much we might 
write of this gorgeous edifice, but we know not where 
to begin, and much less would know where to end. 

But first we visited the Grande Trianon, and then 
the gardens of the Petite Trianon. This accomplish- 
ed we went over the Palace proper, in which, by its 
miles of marble and of canvass, one may read the 
history of France, ay, we might say, of the world ; 
so extensive and so varied is the field, wherein the 
sculptor and the painter have exercised their genius. 
In our early boyhood, in the rude simplicity of our 
Republican birth-land, we had often dreamed of some 
gorgeous palace, on whose walls hung paintings that 
poesy had breathed upon, and on whose stately stair 
ways stood the immortal creations of the sculptor: 

in whose Elysian fields were grottoes and bowers, 

r 336 ^ 



Memories oyer the Water. 337 

with the music of many waters murmuring from out 
their mossy beds ; while on the enchanted view re- 
freshing fountains played and fragrant flowers fed, 
with redolent perfume, the balmy air. And all this 
did we look upon, as we stood amid the wealth of 
wonders of the Versailles Palace. 

But the presiding genius of this gorgeous temple is, 
as might be expected, the Emperor Napoleon. On 
every side you will find that marked, that bold and 
determined face, now in the cold, white marble, and 
now on the glowing canvass. You may pass in 
review, step by step, the drama of his brilliant career, 
and see him, as he looked, on each of his many battle- 
fields, in councils of war and in treaties of peace, in 
his bridal robes and assuming the imperial crown, in 
his hours of triumph and on the day of his great 
defeat, in "the pomp and circumstance" of his high 
station and in the solitude of his exile. 

We explored the Palace, from cellar to attic, and, 
among the almost interminable series of rooms, 
passing through the private apartments of the luxu- 
rious Louis, the Hall of the Crusades and the Salle 
des Empires. Among the myriad portraits of illus- 
trious men we may mention that we saw those of 
Washington, Jefierson, Adams, Jackson, Polk, Clay, 
Webster, Calhoun, Jay, Jones, Hancock, and other 
American celebrities. We may not forget either the 
exquisitely beautiful statue of Joan of Arc, executed 
by the daughter of Louis Philippe. 

At four o'clock in the afternoon the doors of the 
28 



338 Memories over the Water. 

Palace are closed upon visitors. So leaving the 
lavish profusion of gorgeous wealth and glittering 
magnificence, we strolled forth, hand in hand with 
one of Albion's fairest daughters, into the warm sun- 
shine of a cloudless heaven, wandering listlessly 
amid the bowers and the grottoes of those fairy- 
grounds. Our gentle companion was one around 
whom dwelt a spell of sunlight and loveliness, in 
which we did love to linger, but which alas ! was so 
soon to be broken. Years may roll onward, blotting 
out with their oblivious tide many of the star-gleams 
of the Past, yet as oft as memory shall revert to our 
travels, in early youth, over the olden world, so oft 
shall the recollection of her of the warm heart and 
the bright eyes , come with a rush of feeling over the 
spirit, and — 

Softly, softly, softly it falls, 
The music in those fairy halls. 

A visit to the old Palace of Fontainbleau will repay 
the traveler well. It is situated about forty miles 
from Paris, on the Lyons' Eailway. A ride of about 
two hours, over one of the best roads in the world, 
brings you to your destination. The palace consists, 
as usual, of a numberless suite of splendid apartments, 
ornamented with frescoed walls and ceilings, with 
paintings, sculpture and tapestry, with tesselated 
floors, Sevres porcelain, and glittering chandeliers, 
with curtains of the richest silk and embroidered 
drapery for the couch of royalty. The small plain 



I 



Memories oyer the Water. 339 

table was shown us on which Napoleon signed his 
abdication, the chair in which he sat and the bed in 
which he slept. Having finished up the usual routine 
of doing up a palace, we next strolled out into 
the Jardin Anglaise, along by the margin of a fine 
sheet of water, over whose surface royalty was wont 
to boat it. Next we visited the Long Vineyard, 
and then procuring carriages we set out for a ride 
through the famous forest. Saw the Bouquet du Eoi, 
the Two Twins, and other celebrated trees, and among 
them one said to be nine hundred years old. These 
specimens are regarded as mighty giants by the 
French, but to one who has roamed the forests of the 
far-west they appear as pigmies. Next we went to 
the ''Eock of the two Sisters," thence to Mont Ussy, 
thence to the village hotel where we dined, and thence 
back to Paris that night. 

homeward bound. 
Winter had come and gone, as we loitered in the 
gay capital of France, and now as the young flowers 
of Spring began to put forth their timid faces, a 
thought of our distant home came with such appeal- 
ing force upon our heart, that we made instant pre- 
paration to leave the follies and fascinations of the 
great emporium of fashion, and seek again the quiet 
happiness of our native shores, where we might devote 
ourself to some useful pursuit and woo to our em- 
brace the gentle goddess of content. The following 
extracts from our landsman's log-book will show 



340 Memories oyer the Water. 

how we reached once more the shores of the Western 
World. 

Ship Gallia, Lat. 49^, 400 miles out from Havre. 
Dead calm, Wednesday, March 31st. 

Left Paris on Thursday morning last about eight 
o'clock. Passed by Rouen and reached Havre three 
o'clock, r. M. Had baggage put aboard the Gallia, 
and slept that night at Wheeler's Hotel. At 11 
o'clock next morning went aboard, and at 3 o'clock 
in the afternoon got the vessel out of her berth, 
unfurled sails, and glided out into the ocean. 
A few miles from shore dropped anchor, counted 
over steerage passengers (about 750), discharged pilot, 
and again sped on our course. All souls counted 
aboard the ship we number 808. Have now been 
out five days. Fair weather and no wind. Captain 
Richardson is a pleasant, talkative fellow, but too 
much of the Yankee to be the model of a sailor. — 
Our fare is most excellent, the ship clean and comfort- 
able. Company in the first cabin, Mrs. Eve, an 
elderly French lady, and her pretty grand-daughter, 
Miss Amelina Poret, a resident of New York on her 
return home from a visit to her relatives in Nor- 
mandy; Brady, his wife, the German Doctor and 
ourself making up the complement. Day before yes- 
terday spoke the Witch of the Wave, 83 days out 
from China. Her captain an old schoolmate of our 
captain. 

Ship Gallia, Lat. 47^, Lon. 25^, Tuesday, April 
Gth, '52. 



Memories over the Water. 341 

Again another week has gone by, and still we speed 
o'er the blue waves, the bright heaven above us, the 
dancing billows around. Time hangs not heavily on 
our hands, for all vestige of that malady, to which 
the salt-water novitiate is inevitably heir, having 
disappeared, we begin our ocean domestication, and 
enjoy the novelties of our water-bound confinement. 
We love to mount the tapering mast, and thence 
look down on the broad plains of ocean, while our 
gallant vessel rears and plunges onward through the 
bounding billows. More frequently however we 
climb the rigging as a refuge from the attacks of 
Madam B. and the bewitching Amelina. The latter 
is an arch little mischief-maker of some seventeen 
summers. Her naivete is really charming. The 
emigrant passengers, down on the second deck, kept 
up a constant series of amusements, with their songs 
and their merry antics. They are not suffered to 
walk our deck or enter our cabin. Who says that 
money does not establish rank! 

Night before last an infant of one of the emigrants 
died, and last night at 8 o'clock the body of the 
little innocent was committed to the deep, while the 
ship was careering before a strong wind, and the 
rolling waves dashed high above her decks. The 
ocean spray was its winding-sheet and the surging 
winds a requiem song. Young pilgrim, thou hast 
reached a better asylum than earth can give thee, 
though long shall the lone mother sorrow for her 
precious treasure in the ocean buried. 



342 Memories oyer the "Water. 

So far nor iceberg, nor dolphin, nor porpoise, nor 
aught else of ocean's monsters has crossed our path- 
way through the deep, save only one small whale, 
that came almost within arm's reach of the ship. 
For the last few days we have had favorable winds, 
and hence have made considerable progress westward. 
We have had too some stormy w^eather, giving us 
a sight of Ocean in its wrath. We love, while the 
waves roll high, and the strong wind bellows through 
the cordage, to take our stand on deck, and clinging 
to a rope, watch the triumphant vessel rear and 
plunge, as if wrestling with a foe, her prow now rising 
upright over the mad billow^s, and now dipping deep 
down into the trough of the sea. 

At night, as we lay us down to be '' rocked to sleep 
on the rolling deep," the thought of home and friends 
calls up the angel of many a holy purpose, ay, and the 
ghost of many a murdered hour. We long to spring 
once more upon our native land, never again to leave 
it — to lead a better and a purer life. And then there 
will visit us too, in our waking dreams, the sweet face 
of Albion's daughter, who perhaps at that moment 
was breathing a holy prayer to Heaven for our own 
safety, for so she said she would, as oft as night 
should gather earth beneath her wings, and as oft as 
the morning sun should fright the sable queen away 
again. Heaven guard and bless thee, gentle one ! 

Ship Gallia, Lat. 41 deg. 30 m., Lon. 61 deg. 30 m. 
April 18, 1852. 

Hours, days and weeks wear on. We like the 



Memories over the Water. 343 

ocean life. The sea-breeze is a perfect renovator. 
We feel as though we were made of india rubber. We 
prefer the sailing vessel to the steam-ship. There is 
poetry in being wafted by the wind over the moonlit 
waves. This afternoon a jolly old gentleman from the 
steerage cabin, his fair round belly with "fat capon 
lined," dressed himself out as a coquettish old dame, 
and making his appearance on the main deck com- 
menced a spirited waltz to the music of the violin. 
Seizing on a stalwart bystander he would lift him up 
and spin him round as lightly as puss would toy with 
the captive mouse. Finally, grabbing the ''beau of 
the steerage," the promising couple went whirling 
round cutting all manner of light-heeled gyrations, 
until suddenly the ship either lurching, or else the 
ponderous petticoats interfering with the free play 
of the fair lady's abdominal supporters, the merry 
couple were simultaneously capsized, and the corpu- 
lent old dame rolled over on her beam-ends, drawing 
the steerage beau headlong in her wake. 



CHAPTER L. 



CONCLUSION. 



On ship-board one may find ample excuse for a 
tumble. While our vessel was wallowing heavily on 
the banks of Newfoundland, and tables, chairs, and 
books were playing leap-frog in the cabin, we were 
one day clinging desperately to one end of a sofa, 
while the pretty Miss P. was holding as for dear life 
to the other. Suddenlj^ our vessel gave a heavy lurch 
to the larboard, and thump ! came our fair acquaint- 
ance against our side. Letting go our hold on the 
sofa, we were endeavoring to sustain the merry 
maiden, when lurch went the ship again over to the 
starb- ard, and away shot Miss P. and ourself, all 
locked uj^^n a bundle, over and over on the floor. 
No lover evet strained his heart-treasure closer than 
did we each other, as we rolled like one solid ball 
from side to side of the cabin, she unable and we 
unwilling to regain a footing. True to the instinct 
of our nature we held on, and our frightened and 
discomfited fair friend found herself an object of 
uproarious laughter from passengers, captain, and 
steward. In the hurrj^ of the moment we could not 

(344) 



Memories over the Water. 345 

get a fair view of our relative positions; but our 
photograph at that moment would doubtless exhibit 
an amusing scene. 

On the succeeding evening we had escaped the 
heavy swell, and were moving along through com- 
paratively calm water. Brady was out on the 
quarter-deck, dancing with the fair heroine of the yes- 
terday, while we were figuring out the Schottish with 
his wife. A rivalry sprung up between the two 
couples, as to which could bump the hardest the one 
against the other. Several collisions had taken place, 
but neither was recognized the conqueror. But 
finally, having more tonnage and equally as much 
speed to make up our momentum, we struck our lar- 
board-side square against the aft- quarters of our 
adversary, and away tumbled the enemy over the 
deck — the fair one falling keel bottom-most, and 
Brady performing a complete somerset over her 
rigging in most gallant style. 

During our homeward trip several corrections were 

administered to a refractory crew for drunkenness ind 

insubordination. One of the sailors, during a tight 

blow, when hurried by the mate, drew a knife on his 

officer. For this offense Jack was marched aft, and ^ 

a pair of iron bracelets soon graced his hands. For 

the next twenty-four hours he was placed in a cold 

room to himself, and there suffered to lie without food 

or water. On being released he was as tractable as 

a lamb. 

On the morning of the 20th of April, while dressing 
29 



34:6 Memories over the Water. 

in our stateroom, Brady came dashing down into 
the cabin shouting — "Land, ho!" Let those who 
have been, for many weary weeks, out upon the 
watery waste, imagine the excitement this announce- 
ment created. Hastily accomplishing our toilet, we 
ascended to the quarter-deck, and there, in truth, out 
upon our starboard, lay the dim shores of Long 
Island. It was with mingled feelings of gratitude 
and exulting joy that our eye ran caressingly along 
the hills of our native coast. A fair breeze filled our 
sails, and we were dashing right gallantly over the 
crested waves, each moment drawing the shore 
nearer to our eager embrace. Soon a pilot-boat was 
observed, with her signal up, and making for our 
vessel. But the wind was all in our favor, and so, 
without shortening sail, w^e bore right onward, as 
though the pilot had not been seen from our deck. 
Anon the weather grew misty, and then we held up 
for the boat. In a short time the trim little vessel 
came dancing around our ship, and her row-boat put 
out with her pilot aboard. In a few moments the 
ocean veteran, who looked as though he had stared 
many a nor'wester out of countenance, mounted to our 
deck. Again we were on our way, and erelong our 
anchor plunged with joyful sound into the Empire 
Harbor. Llere we lay until the following morning, 
when a small steamer came alongside, and attaching 
itself to our bow, puffed and paddled away, seeming, 
in its fussy way, to rejoice at the good turn it was 
doing us. Passing scotfrce through the Quarantine 



Memories oyer the Water. 347 

and Custom-House investigation, we moved on to the 
shore, and were met by a whole fleet of skiffs, full of 
hotel runners, etc.— those land-sharks whose occupa- 
tion is to inveigle and plunder the unposted emigrant. 
In a few moments after, we stood once more upon 
our native soil, whose happy shores were even then 
smiling under the first kiss of the Yirgin Spring. 
With a song on her lips and a wreath on her brow, 
she came sporting along the ocean coast from her 
home in the South, and under her light footsteps 
nature smiled, and young flowers awoke to life. Not 
less joyously did our foot greet again the soil of our 
birthland. Our wanderings were now fast drawing 
to a close. So far we had been going with the 
stream ; now we were to turn the prow of our little 
bark about, and lay hold on the oars. We had been 
only a looker-on at the battle of life ; now we must 
put on our armor and mingle in the fray. 

We spent several days in New York, and there met 
many friends of old acquaintance — among them 

Nannie A , of the good city Nashville, whose 

familiar face awoke many a cheery memory of the 
past. 

On the morning of the 28th of April we were 
aboard the cars, booked for the city of Washington. 
Soon reached the Delaware river, a few miles above 
Philadelphia, and there took steamer to the Quaker 
city. Thence proceeded down the fair waters of the 
Delaware, whose placid tide was thickly studded with 



348 Memories oyer the Water. 

the white sails of every class of vessels, and instinct 
with the rushing steamers. At New Castle we again 
took the train, and crossed, in an hour and a half, the 
little State of Delaware. Eeaching the waters of the 
Chesapeake we went aboard the steamer, and arrived 
at Baltimore at ten o'clock that night. At eleven 
o'clock on the following morning we were in Wash- 
ington City. Here we passed several days, and most 
pleasantly, under the auspices of the fair daughters 
of Major D. 

On the morning of the 2d of May we took the 
steamer down the broad-flowing Potomac, passing in 
fair view of Mount Vernon, and even catching a 
glimpse of the Tomb of Washington, peering through 
the green foliage about it. At noon we landed from 
the steamer, and took the cars. Passed through 
Eichmond and Petersburg, Va., and reached Weldon, 
N. C, that night. 

Here we got out, and in the old village of Mur- 
freesboro', and on the banks of the Meherrin and the 
Chowan, we learned the hospitality of the old North 
State. Many were our evening rides on horseback, 
and many a cozy hour, with our lady friends and 
favorite poets, went magically by. But among those 
bright-eyed ones there was a being of youth and 
beauty, from out whose large blue orbs broke a wild 
and spiritual light. Into the fair paradise of that 
young heart no thought of evil passed — over the glad 
canopy of her life no storm-cloud sent its frown. 



Memories over the Water. 349 

From out the sweet, unbroken dream of youth she 
had ne'er awakened. She 

Dream'd that earth was bright with beauty, 
Dream'd that hearts grew never cold, 

Dream'd that all were true and worthy. 
And dreaming sought the spirit- fold. 

Upon her pure and gentle dreaming, and all un- 
known to the loved and loving ones about her, the 
shadow of death was stealing. We have stood by 
her side, at evening's blushing sunset, and by the 
grave of those who had gone before her to the spirit- 
land ; and we heard, as though it were the voice of an 
angel, her thoughts of the life that was, and of the 
life that is. At that lone spot, where weeps the wil- 
low, she slumbers now. She bloomed awhile, like 
some fairy lily by the shore of death's dark stream. 
The envious current saw and bore away the flower. 
But the Kind Mariner looked upon the lily, tossed 
upon the turbid tide, and taking it up transplanted it 
to smile for ever in his garden home. 

How like the dew of Heaven on drooping flowers — 
how like the sunlight on the pathway of the night- 
traveler — is the smile of the innocent on the heart of 
the strong. It, for a time, dispels the sad contempla- 
tion of the selfishness of earth, and lends a brighter 
hue to life. The tear that swims in the eye of the 
loved when the farewell is spoken — the voice that 
trembles in the fond adieu — the light that breaks out 
from the heart at the return — are all heart treasures 



350 Memories over the Water. 

that memory stores away. They are like sweet stars 
that shine through the mist of the past — like bright 
angels that stand upon the shores of the future, and 
beckon us on to the heavenly hills. 

But our farewell is said, and our flag is up for Ten- 
nessee. Jumping into the baggage-w^agon with our 

friend Tom W , we rattled away to Boykin's 

Depot, there to await the express train. The waving 
of the red flag, as it comes thundering on, causes the 
breakers to be put hard down. Bidding friend Tom 
adieu, we jumped aboard, and soon after were on 
the Southern road down to Wilmington. There got 
aboard an ocean steamer and ran down to Charleston. 
Immediately after took the cars for Chattanooga, and 
reached the borders of our native State about five 
o'clock in the afternoon. Got into the stage-coach 
and crossed the Cumberland Mountains by night, and 
in the midst of a heavy thunder-storm. Arrived at 
the Winchester Depot at ten o'clock on Friday. At 
three o'clock, p. m., took the train, and at nightfall 
we were in Nashville. 

And here the curtain falls upon our travels. The 
ruling desire of our heart had been, from earliest 
youth, to cross the big waters and look on foreign 
lands. That desire had been gratified, and we re- 
turned to our home, having learned to love and 
appreciate the more our native land. We had ling- 
ered in the capitals of England and of France — in the 
homes of the Saxon and the Gaul. We had mingled 
with the German of the North and the Hungarian of 



Memories over the Water. 351 

tne East. We had floated on the waters of the Ehine, 
and looked, with almost holy reverence, on its ivy- 
mantled ruins. We had stood upon the woody brows 
of Jura, and crossed the villa-studded Apennines. 
We had climbed the snowy mantles of the Alps, and 
boated o'er the deep-embowered lakes that lay smiling 
at their feet. We had stood within the shadows of 
the Coliseum, and looked down into the crater of 
Vesuvius. We had mingled with those who had 
their homes by the Danube and the Po, the Moldau 
and the Iser, the Arno and the Tiber. Then west- 
ward turned our face again, with the prayer that we 
might once more look upon the fresh, fair hills of our 
distant birth -land, where our dust might mingle with 
the soil of the free ; and where, above our simple 
grave in the Far -Western Land, the wild flowers 
might bloom and the summer winds blow. 



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